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Ke bear proceeded to uWk across (he pond 










Copyright, 1892, by HARPER & BROTHERS 

All riyhtt rturrtd. 




Dear Sir, 1 thank you for granting me permission to dedicate this 
little book to you, which I now do as a alight but most sincere testimonial 
of my admiration and respect. I trust that this well-meant act of mine 
may not disturb the serenity of our relations, but that they may continue 
to be as pleasant in the future as during that portion of the past which is 
covered by the six years that have elapsed since the date of your conquest of 
and triumphal entry into the State of A'eio Jersey. I have the honor to 
remain now as always your dutiful parent and obedient slave, 

Mud Knob, Summit, N. J. 
October 1, 1892 
















HIS WING " 25 














PIG" 73 






















CHEESE" 161 





HIM" 239 






OPOPONAX # . , . 275 










TIMOTHY HAY'S cow 294 



POSTER" 300 

ER'S " 301 





RUNNING" . 314 







ON A TROT" 340 




exclaimed little Johnny, " but I'd 
like to become acquainted with a real 
fairy. I have read so much about them 
in books that I feel they must be very 
pleasant people. Oh, if I could only be 
the playmate of a fairy Prince, 1 " 

" I am a fairy Prince," came suddenly from a thicket 
near by. 

" You ? And who are you, pray ?" asked Johnny, 
looking in vain for the speaker. 

"As I just remarked, I am a fairy Prince." 
And then a pretty little squirrel hopped out on the 
fence, and laughed like a fairy, until Johnny was 

u You must not be afraid of me," said the little fairy 


Prince, assuringly, "for I am only a temporary squirrel, 
and I long for a congenial playmate who is not a fairy." 

" But how long are you going to be a squirrel ?" 
asked Johnny. 

"Until to-morrow at 8.13 P.M.," replied the Prince, 
who broke forth with, 

"I'm weary of the butternut, 

The walnut and pecan; 
The chestnut and the cocoa-nut 

Unman this little man. 
The hickory, the hazel-nut, 

The nut from far Brazil 
Though Autumn's for the squirrel nuts, 

I shun them with a will !" 

" Why, how in the world did you come to be a 
squirrel, anyhow?" asked Johnny. 

" In this way : when my sister Roseflake was six- 
teen, my father, the King, decided to give her a party 
one that should never be forgotten in all his great 
domain. It would be impossible for me to give you a 
description of it, because it was simply dazzling and 
ravishing in all the details of its loveliness and gran- 
deur. All the fairy Princes from neighboring countries 
were there, each one ambitious to win the heart of 
Roseflake. There were animals made of candy, life- 
size, and the cakes and jellies were simply poems. 
Such a feast was never seen before. And Roseflake 
was so lovely that her very presence filled the air with 
melody. Her step was as light as the blossom in the 
wind, and when she danced her feet filled the palace 
with a symphony that was felt though not heard. 

" At the feast the Prince who got the piece of cake 
containing the Brazil-nut was to have the hand of 
Roseflake. The other nuts were represented in great 


variety, but there was only one Brazil-nut. Just before 
the party I picked all the nuts out of the cake and 
ate them, believing 


- _-_ vi^ 

that when their loss 
was discovered it 

would result in the 
. , . . 
King s giving an- 
other grand party. 


But, to my great 
horror, he did 
not. He simply 
had me turned 
into a squirrel, 
an( i ^nt to the 
earth to feed on 
nuts for a given 
period. And 

that is why you now observe Prince Flowerbell in the 

form of a squirrel." 

" You say you were sent to the earth," said Johnny. 

" Now, where did you come from ?" 
" From the moon." 
" Oh, how I should like to go back with you for 

about a week ! How soon shall you return ?" 


" I shall return to-morrow, for at that time the pe- 
riod of my squirrel servitude, if I may so term it, will 
have expired. I return to-morrow night as soon as 
the moon appears, so come along." 

The Squirrel capered along the fence, and Johnny 
ran down the road, until the former jumped into a 
field beside a great pumpkin. 

" Jump in," exclaimed the Prince, politely. 

" Jump in where ?" asked Johnny. 

" In there," said the Prince, tapping the pumpkin. 
" That is Cinderella's coach." 

As soon as he touched it, it turned into a beautiful 
little coach, with two small horses before it, and a 
coachman on the box. Johnny suddenly found him- 
self reduced in height to a few inches, sitting beside 
the Prince, and away they whirled down into a deep 
green wood, where they could not be observed. 

As soon as the coach stopped, and Johnny at- 
tempted to step out, he found himself in a luxurious 
golden chamber, for the coach had been turned back 
into a pumpkin, and they were inside of it for the 

As soon as the horses had crouched like sleeping 
camels, they turned into luxurious divans ; and the 
coachman was transformed into a tall lamp that shed 
the softest rays of moonlight all around, his face be- 
coming incandescent like the moon. 

As this chastened light filled the chamber, Johnny 
was enchanted, for to him it seemed a magic pagoda ; 
all the filmy tapestries of the pumpkin looked like 
flakes of yellow roses woven together loosely with 
finest silk, while the seeds glistened like jewels in its 
tawny folds. 

" The beauty of this incandescent coachman," said 


the Squirrel, " is that it is not necessary to have a lamp 
on the carriage." 

All this seemed very strange and novel to Johnny, 
who fancied that the coachman had a crank by which 
he could be turned on and off like a gas-jet. And 
then it seemed so queer to him 
to be only a few inches high. 
Even his clothing had been re- 
duced to fit his anatomy, and 
his boxwood top was only the 
size of a small acorn. In his 
bewilderment he knew not what 
to say, but finally remarked, 

" I suppose that as the moon 
is only a ball of living light at 
night, there is no school, eh ?" 

" Oh yes," replied the Squir- 
rel ; " but only night school. We 
sleep when your world is light, 
for then ours is pale and dim ; 
and when you are sleeping in this 
world we are at school in ours." 

" It must be a great place for the study of astron- 
omy," said Johnny. " I suppose you know all about 
Cassiopeia's Chair and the Great Bear at your school ?" 

" I don't know anything about them," replied the 
Squirrel. " For, being a Prince, I don't have to study. 
A poor old laboring fairy's son has to do all my study- 
ing for me, and whatever he learns I know for a day 
or two, and he immediately forgets. Several of my 
brothers and sisters have been educated through this 
poor fairy, who knows nothing. Whenever I am 
whipped this poor fairy feels the pain. I catch it on 
the back, and the poor fairy jumps a yard in the air. 



" One day the teacher came to me, and said he was 
going to give me twelve blows for turning the stove 
into a dancing bear, and destroying the dignity of the 
institution ; but seeing that the poor fairy was sick, 
and not in condition to withstand the shock, I turned 
the teacher into a plum-tree, with twelve glowing plums 
on it. The twelve plums were much more acceptable 
than the twelve blows, I can assure you. And when 
the plums were eaten I turned all the teacher's books 
into hornets' nests, and turned the plum-tree back into 
the teacher. In fumbling about for the missing books 
he disturbed one of the hornets' nests, and out popped 
the hornets, but before they could sting him I turned 
them all into wild flowers, which fluttered into his glass 
of water, and filled the air with delightful fragrance. 
He appreciated the kindness with which I tempered 
my power, and never again took advantage of his own 
to deal me a blow that would make the poor fairy dance 
with pain." 

" It must indeed be a queer place, this Moonland from 
which you were sent to assume the form of a squirrel." 

" It is not half so queer a world as this one in which 
we now are. Why, if a wild animal chases you here 
you have to be caught and killed ! Just think of a 
person not being able to assume the form of a bird at 
such a time, and escape !" 

Here the Squirrel laughed so hard at the absurdity 
of such a situation that one of the couches woke up ; 
that is, it gradually reassumed its natural horse form, 
and capered three or four times around the pumpkin, 
as around a circus ring, with Johnny and the Squirrel 
upon his back. Then the other couch began to kick 
and prance, perhaps from sympathy, and it was very 
curious to see it gradually assume its equine shape. 


First the pillow end turned into a head, and began to 
neigh impatiently for the rest to hurry into the shape 
of the popular quadruped. Then the casters turned 
into shoes, and the whole thing stretched and was 
suddenly a horse. 

" Do they ever come to in this way in the night and 
start off on a gallop with their occupants ?" 


" Nev-er, nev-er, my fri-end, for-when-one-is-a-sleep- 
on-them-their-slum-ber-can-not-be-bro-ken," replied the 
Squirrel, the jolting motion of the horse chopping his 
words into syllables. 

Suddenly they were both dashed to the ground, but 
were not in the least hurt. 

" What does this mean ?" asked Johnny, after he 
had regained his feet and breath. 


" It means," replied the Squirrel, " that their motion 
has been stopped by their suddenly returning to the 
couch state." 

And, sure enough, there were the two horses in the 
shape of two of the most inviting couches one could 
wish to see. 

" They are happiest when they are couches," re- 
marked the Squirrel. " Sometimes when we are out 
driving they try to turn into couches in the middle of 
the road. Have some chestnuts ?" 

" No, thanks," replied Johnny ; " I had a hearty meal 
before I met you." 

" Then excuse me while I eat some." 

The Squirrel began eating and singing : 


"I have been a gray squirrel ever since 

I rifled that cake in the moon, 
But I'll be a very frolicsome Prince 

Of rny father's realm full soon. 
And if a great cake in many cuts 

They ever again shall make, 
Oh, never again I'll touch the nuts, 
Alone and complete I'll leave the nuts, 

If I eat the rest of the cake. 

"I'm a penitent squirrel spry and gray 

When I sit on the mossy rail, 
And chatter the weary time away 

In the shade of my silver tail. 
In spite of the various ' ifs ' and ' buts ' 

Put in for argument's sake, 
If a great big cake they make of nuts, 
I'll fly for my life from the tempting nuts, 

If I eat the rest of the cake." 

"Do you make that sort of thing up as you go 
along?" asked Johnny. 


" Certainly. It is quite easy when so irregular and 
sing-songy," replied the Squirrel, " when you once be- 
come accustomed to it. Here is my first production, 
a counting-out verse to decide who shall be ' it ' in any 
game : 

"'Cider, vinegar, nut-brown ale, 
Seventeen monkeys in a pail ; 
Fourteen were blown way out to sea, 
Which left, as a matter of fact, but three.'" 

" When do you think you'll start for the moon ?" 
asked Johnny, without commenting upon the verse. 

"To-morrow night at 8.13." 

" Well, you must look out that you are not capt- 
ured to-morrow and put in a cage, to spend the rest of 
your life running around in a wire wheel for exercise." 

The Squirrel did not relish this possibility much, 
and promised to remain in the pumpkin until time to 

" But suppose the pumpkin should be taken by 
some one and made into a pie with us in it ?" 

" We are pretty safe," replied the Squirrel, "because 
we are in a deep wood that no one ventures into, and 
besides I could turn the pumpkin into a carriage and 
drive away if I should hear any one coming ; and you 
know my squirrel sense of hearing is very keen. I can 
tell you another thing, and that is that it will be sim- 
ply nuts for me when I am unsquirreled and restored 
to my fairy princeship. Just look at that green-eyed 
owl peeping in through the oriel of the coach. Did 
you ever hear a story called the ' Owl and the Veter- 
inary Surgeon ' ?" 

" No, I never did," replied Johnny. " Will you tell 
me the story ?" 


" I don't know it. " 

" But you just asked me if I ever heard it," replied 
Johnny. " Now, if you never heard of even the exist- 
ence of such a story, why did you ask me if I ever 
heard the story itself ?" 

" Because I thought if you had ever heard it, you 
would not object to telling it to me." 

" Of course I should not object to telling it to you 
if I knew it," replied Johnny. 

" Well, that's all I want to know. What's the use 
of getting angry over it?" 

" I am not angry ; I am in a good-humor." 

" Who said you were angry ?" asked the Squirrel. 

" You did," replied Johnny. 

" No, I did not ; I said, ' getting angry.' If you arc 
in a good-humor now, how do you feel when you're 
angry ?" 

" I don't know ; but what has that to do with the 
' Owl and the Veterinary Surgeon ' ?" 

" Nothing !" said the Squirrel. 

" Who said it had ?" asked Johnny. 

"You intimated as much," replied the Squirrel. 

" What if I did ?" 

" Nothing," replied the Squirrel. 

" Then we had better change the subject." 

" All right," responded the Squirrel ; " we will 
change it. Suppose we retire to dream-land, and pre- 
pare for our approaching trip to the moon ?" 

" A good idea," replied Johnny. 

And then the Squirrel sang : 

"At 8.13 to-morrow night 

From the home of the wild raccoon, 
We'll drift away in the soft moonlight 
To my home in the silver moon!" 


Then he hit the coachman's hat and drove it down 
over his luminous face, and the pumpkin was dark- 
ened for the night. And very shortly after Johnny 
and Prince Flowerbell were wandering in sunny mead- 
ows that seemed steeped in benisons of flowerful 
balm, through which the myriad dronings of insects 
floated like a soothing symphony, until all was a pen- 
sive bower of soft empurpled sleep. 


THE Squirrel was as fast asleep as a squirrel can be 
when the first faint ray of dawn appeared through the 
oriel of the pumpkin. But at this early hour Johnny 
was wide awake, wondering if he was not in reality 
living in a sleeping dream. He could remember many 
dreams that were not half so wonderful as this ex- 
perience. When he had read of fairies he never ex- 
pected to meet one ; and when the nurse had told him 
him the fascinating story of Cinderella, little did he 
imagine that he would ever be driven about in her 
dainty vehicle, and sleep in the magic pumpkin from 
which it was made. 

But he was at a loss to know what had become of 
the other horses that belonged to Cinderella's carriage, 
and to account for the absence of the footmen. So 
when the Squirrel awoke and stretched himself Johnny 

" How is it that you have but two horses and no 
footmen ?" 

" When I was doomed to visit the earth, and be a 
squirrel, and live on nuts, I was not sent away to enjoy 
myself, and my outfit was made as small as possible. 
I suppose the horses are gambolling over their beauti- 
ful moon meadows, regaling their inner horses with 
the night-blooming cereus (our national flower), and 
the footmen are being used for various purposes." 


" For various purposes ?" asked Johnny. " Why, to 
what other uses can you put a footman ?" 

" To a great many," observed the Squirrel. " You 
know my father can turn one thing into another in a 
jiffy, and frequently does it to save time. For instance, 


if he wants to sharpen a pencil, and his knife is up- 
stairs, he calls the nearest servant, turns him into a 
knife, and proceeds with the pencil-sharpening. One 
day, upon observing a pen-holder in an out-of-the-way 
place, he remembered that the same was a servant that 
had been missing six months, and as soon as he was 
brought out of his pen-holder state he was as happy 
as the King himself. Would you like me to recite 
you a little reminiscent poem called ' My Father and 
the Clown '?" 

" I should like to hear it very much," said Johnny. 

Then the Squirrel sat upon his hinder legs, that he 
might make gestures with his paws, and began : 


" My father once sat by his bright blazing grate, 

Much in need of a raking down ; 
The poker was missing, I'm sorry to state, 
So he seized on the palace clown. 


"And lie turned him right into a poker slim, 

And among all the coals red-hot, 
With a petulant movement he rattled him 
Until perfectly white he got. 

"He was whiter with heat than the drifted snow 

When my father the raking stopped; 
At a word, from the poker more than aglow, 
The buffoon in a jiffy popped. 

jf Then he said, as he jumped with the burning pain, 

By a fine sense of fun controlled, 
'When I'm used for a red-hot poker again, 
Unpoker me not till I'm cold.'" 

" That was very funny," said Johnny, clapping his 
hands with keen delight, " but I feel very sorry for the 
poor clown. But how did your father treat the clown 
for the liberty he took in addressing him in such a 
familiar manner?" 

u I think he gave him a snuffbox, or something of 
the kind. You know my father is so fond of a joke 
that after you have regaled him with a good one you 
can do almost anything you please with him." 

" He must be a very nice father. Do you suppose 
if I got off a good joke in his presence that he would 
stand against the wall and let me throw a ball at him ?" 

" In all probability he would ; but if the joke should 
happen to be lacking in merit, or of ancient origin, he 
would probably stand you against the wall to be the 
target. Upon one occasion a person wanted some 
favor from my father, upon whom he vented an obso- 
lete joke which he fancied the King had never heard." 

" What did your father do ?" asked Johnny. 

" What did he do ?" repeated the Squirrel " what 
did he do ? Why, before that man was aware of his 



blunder he was a pair of nut-crackers. But he was 
made to retain his sense of feeling. I have often tried 
to picture to myself that man's sensations when the 
nut-cracker came together on a shagbark hickory or a 
common walnut. When he was transformed into his 
normal shape he hobbled around on crutches for a 
month, and appeared like one afflicted with incurable 
rheumatism. He was so 
sore that he never after 
perpetrated a joke or 
laughed at one, although 
my father gave him a 
kindly lecture and a bot- 
tle of liniment when he 
ceased to be a pair of 

" I wish it was a lit- 
tle lighter," said John- 
ny, irrelevantly. " Don't 
you think it a little dark 

The Squirrel replied by 
knocking off the coach- 
man's hat, which caused 
the face of that digni- 
tary to cast forth its soft 

pearly beams and illuminate the pumpkin like a ball- 
room. Then Johnny began to make inquiries relative 
to breakfast. 

" We don't have to eat, because we never become 
hungry in this pumpkin or in the coach. Whenever I 
am outside eating nuts, and the nuts do not satisfy 
riy appetite, I fly back to the coach and feel as though 
1 have just had a hearty meal." 



" Come to think of it," said Johnny, " I have a feel- 
ing of repletion just now myself. I feel as though a 
nice big plate of golden cakes and maple syrup would 
not tempt me at all. Besides, 1 imagine that since I 
have been reduced in size ray capacity for eating has 
diminished proportionately" 

" No doubt it has, Johnny," replied the Squirrel ; 
" but I wish you would use ordinary language in ad- 
dressing me. Don't talk so much like a school-teacher." 

" I will try not to," said Johnny. 

" All right ; try your best, and if you succeed I shall 
be very happy to take you to the Molasses River when 
we reach the moon." 

" I wish you would tell me all about the Molasses 
River," said Johnny. 

"You would never be able to gain anything like a 
fair idea of its saccharine picturesqueness from an or- 
dinary description. It must be seen to be appreciated. 
A number of poems have been written upon this won- 
derful body of molasses. This is the only one that I can 
recall at present : 


"I rise on Sugar-loaf Mountain, 

And tenderly flow along, 
A plaintive saccharine fountain 
A- singing a dulcet song. 

" White sugar 's the shining gravel 
That makes my pleasant shore, 
And with great delight I travel 
By many a candy store. 

"A- glide through the winding channel, 

The lilies that make me glad 

Are cocoa-nut cakes, and a flannel 

Flapjack is each floating pad. 


"Maples and sugar-beets breezy 

Over my sweet tide droop ; 
Each shell on my shores, 'tis easy 
To see, is a sugar -scoop. 

" With rapture along I wrestle, 

And joyously splash and bob, 
Till I'm caged in the gray stone vessel 
That's corked with an old corn-cob." 

" And will you take me to see this beautiful river ?" 
asked Johnny. 

" Certainly ; I shall be only too happy to take you 
sailing on it when we have our next picnic, which " 

" Oh, look there !" broke in Johnny. 

They both looked up at the oriel of the pumpkin, 
and there was the old owl again, gazing upon them 
with all the intensity of his burning bottle-green eyes. 
But he had a pleasant expression rarely seen in an 
owl, and instead of accosting him rudely, they said : 

" Good-morning, Mr. Owl. Are not you up rather 
early this morning ?" 

" It is rather early for me," replied the Owl. " As 
the daylight dawns I cannot see, because, you know, 
darkness is liglit to me. While sitting under yonder 
tree, groping and feeling my way around in the light, 
I happened to discern a ribbon of moonshine drifting 
from this pumpkin, and I thought I would come over 
and solve the mystery. I trust you will pardon the 
intrusion, and excuse my seeming rudeness." 

" Certainly," replied the Squirrel. " Will not you 
walk or fly into the pumpkin ?" 

" Are you quite sure you are not engaged in discuss- 
ing some private matter ?" asked the Owl, politely. 

" We are sure," replied the Squirrel. 


In a moment the oriel increased in size, and in 
popped the Owl, and perched on one of the couch- 
horses. He looked all around, and his eyes seemed to 
grow greener, until he put on a pair of black glasses. 

" With these glasses," observed the Owl, " I can al- 
ways discern things more distinctly. They are inval- 
uable to me in the hunting of field-mice. Is this your 
home, Mr. Squirrel ?" 

" It is just at present ; but when I get back to the 
moon I shall be a Prince." 

" I see," remarked the Owl ; " you are a moon 
squirrel. I suppose you run around in the moon as in 
a wire wheel, and keep the great orb whirling. If you 
will kindly excuse me for speaking about myself, I 
will say that my only grievance is that I cannot see in 
the daytime. Do you think it would be consistent 
with my feelings of self-respect to offer to lead a crow 
around at night if the crow would chaperon me during 
the day ?" 

" It might," replied the Squirrel. " But the only ob- 
jection I can see is that neither of you would get the 
necessary amount of sleep. You say you can only see 
in the dark ?" 

" Yes," said the Owl. 

" Then you ought to be able to see first-rate when 
you close your eyes." 

The Owl did not care to try the experiment, for fear 
he was being chaffed by the Squirrel, and yet he did 
not feel sufficiently certain that he was being chaffed 
to justify him in acting as though offended. So he 
pretended that the observation missed him, and began 
a volley of questions by asking the Squirrel for an ex- 
planation of the pumpkin mystery, the coachman-lamp, 
and, in fact, everything connected with his squirrelship. 



He was soon acquainted with the history of the Prince's 
life, and of his melancholy fate in being turned into a 
squirrel. But no sooner had the Squirrel given an 
account of himself than he asked the Owl to say some- 
thing appertaining to his owlship. 

" I shall be only too happy to furnish the desired 
information. May I burst into song 2" 

" Certainly you may," replied the Squirrel. 

And then by the dim light of the coachman-lamp 
the bird of wisdom sang : 


"I am an owl of orders gray, 

As happy as can be; 
The sunny day I dream away 

Within a hollow tree. 
But when night comes, with much ado 
I through the forest flit, 
Till on some root 
I rest and hoot 
Tu woo, tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo! 
Tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit! 

"Unto the minster oft I fly, 

Where, in my ashen cowl, 
I hear the winds of summer sigh, 

The winds of winter howl ; 
Where blue doves woo and bill and coo, 
I on the rafter sit, 
And moping sing 
Beneath my wing, 
Tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo! 
Tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit!" 

" A very nice song, to a lively tripping air, and with 
a sort of choice mediaeval flavor," observed the Squirrel. 
"Up to this time I always fancied you the most philo- 


sophic bird on earth, giving your attention only to seri- 
ous stubborn facts, and I can assure you I am pleased 
to find you so richly endowed with the lyric gift. I 
have a little suggestion to offer, or rather a proposition 
to make." 

" Make it !" exclaimed the Owl, rather abruptly. 

" I would like to take you with me to the moon, for 
there you will b'e able to see all the time, and will never 
have to seek the aid of eye-glasses. You may not be 
aware of the fact, but there is not an owl in the moon, 
and there has not been one there for centuries. * Do 
you know why you hoot at night ?" 

" I never thought there was any special reason," re- 
plied the Owl. 

"Well, there is," continued the Squirrel. "When 
you hoot at night it is an unconscious invocation to 
the moon. When you madly tear a field-mouse to 
pieces your feelings are really those of disappointment 
at not being able to live in the moon ; you are desper- 
ately in love with the moon, and yet you don't know 
it. Now, suppose Johnny were fond of pie, and yet 
unconscious of it, would not you think it a very queer 
proposition ?" 

" I certainly should," replied the Owl. " But why 
do I love the moon ?" 

" Because your ancestors were originally moon birds, 
and very merry birds they were, too. They only be- 
came solemn after they reached the earth. Some of 
your species still have the white moon face. When 
in the moon you were always playing tricks and creat- 
ing merriment. Now, at the downfall of your ances- 
tors, my great-great-grandfather, Moonshine the Sev- 
enth, was King. He was as bald as the moon itself 
appears from the earth. He was so bald that he always 


had to wear a fur hat to prevent his taking cold. But 
he was as fond of a joke as he was bald, and although 
he could perform all sorts of moon miracles, he could 
not make hair grow on his head. One day an old owl 
went to him for the purpose of amusing him with a 
fresh-laid joke. He said he had been wrecked on the 
Molasses River, and was so weak from exposure that 
he had hardly sufficient strength to retain his feathers. 
He then said he was making a desperate struggle to 
maintain his family by the sale of a little article, and 
whipped a bottle of hair-curling fluid from under his 
wing, and offered it to him for a trifling sum. Instead 
of the King laughing violently at the absurdity of 
being offered a curling fluid when he had no hair, as 
the owl supposed he would, he flew into a towering 
rage, and ordered all the owls to be driven from the 
moon. And that is the reason you are all such a 
thoughtful, melancholy family on the earth. It was 
then decreed that no owl should ever again live in the 
moon unless brought there by one of the royal family. 
At 8.13 to-night the moon will appear, and by that 
time we must be in readiness." 

" But how do we go ?" asked the mystified Owl. 

" That's what I'd like to know, too !" exclaimed 
Johnny. " How do we go ?" 

"Wait until 8.13," replied the Squirrel, "and you 
shall see." 


THE day was wearing away very slowly for the Squir- 
rel, Johnny, and the Owl, because they were all so 
anxious to start on their journey to the moon. The 
Squirrel ran all over the inside of the pumpkin ; and 
the Owl, so happy on being able to see in the soft 
light waves of the coachman-lamp, flapped his wings 
for exercise with great glee, and hooted in the most 
rapturous manner. Johnny was full of expectation, 
and looked forward with wild delight to all the mys- 
teries of Moonland. The Molasses River and the 
picnic upon its saccharine shores filled him with the 
liveliest anticipations of pleasure. Finally the after- 
noon came, and drifted softly away into a purple dream, 
in which the leaves rustled like an seolian melody. 

The Squirrel sat at the edge of the pumpkin oriel, 
and looked out upon the scene of pulsing calm from 
which he was shortly to be torn forever. The brook 
lisped through the murmuring grasses, the trees waved 
gently to and fro, and the sun, piercing the solitudes 
of the wood, gilded the dreaming violets, and seemed 
to set them atremble. At last the sun dropped behind 
a distant hill, and its reflection dyed the sky a delicate 
rose that nestled in the dimples of the clouds. And 
then the rose faded into olive, and the olive into gray, 
in which a great white star sparkled like a blazing 



One by one the trees became more indistinct; the 
outlines of the landscape melted into darkness, until 
suddenly a great bil- 
low of moonlight 
broke over brook 
and field, and 
made the world 
seem one of 
pearly splen- 

" All aboard ! 
It's 8.13!" ex- 
claimed the 

As he uttered 
these words the 
pumpkin sud- 
denly turned not 
into Cinderella's 
carriage, but into 
a beautiful boat 
of pearl, with an 
ivory mast and a 
luxurious crim- 
son sail of dim- 
pled silk. 

" I am not ac- 
customed to such 
sudden changes," 
exclaimed the 

Owl, " so please excuse my apparent agitation." 
Johnny could only clap his hands with delight, 



while the Squirrel, in the exuberance of his joy, ran up 
the rigging like a sailor, and sat upon the top of the 
mast. The horses were on the deck, acting as pump- 
kin-colored lounges ; and the coachman, having been 
unlamped for the occasion, was at the helm steering 
for by this time the boat of pearl was sailing in the 
moonlight hundreds of feet above the highest trees. 

"This boat does not sail on water," said the Squirrel, 
who had just come down from the mast-head, " only 
on the moonlight." 

" If the moon should go behind a cloud, would we 
drop in the darkness ?" asked Johnny. 

" Not at all," replied -the Squirrel, much to the satis- 
faction of Johnny, who was a little nervous. " In that 
case the boat would only stand still until the reappear- 
ance of the moon. The boat is drawn by the moon to 
itself. Do you know how fast we are going?" 

" No. How fast ?" asked the Owl. 

" About one hundred miles a minute. We are go- 
ing so fast that we don't seem to be going at all." 

" I must confess," said the Owl, " that this is about 
the queerest experience I have had so far in life. Why, 
gracious me ! look at that silver ball down there ! 
What is that ?" 

" That is the moonlit earth whirling around in ink- 

" The world also rolls in inkiness during the day," 
said the Owl. 

" What kind of inkiness, pray ?" asked the Squirrel. 

" Gold-inkiness," replied the Owl. 

" How do you know," asked Johnny, " when you 
can't see during the day ? I never supposed you knew 
anything appertaining to the day before the arrival of 
the evening paper." 


The Squirrel chattered, and the Owl enveloped his 
face as best he could in his feathery bonnet. 

" It would not be a bad scheme," observed the Owl, 
over-solicitous to change the subject of conversation," to 
have a song, a serenade or something of that kind, that 
would be in harmony with this divinely lovely evening." 

" Suppose you sing, then," suggested the Squirrel. 

" I don't know anything ; and, besides, I have a cold." 

Johnny said he could remember nothing but the 
rhyme of the cow that jumped over the moon, which 
they both knew. The Squirrel was so pleased with 
the allusion to his beloved moon that he volunteered 
to sing himself, so Johnny and the Owl both listened 
with attention, while the Squirrel poured forth a little 
lyric which he called, simply, 


"A moonbeam once fell in the bell of a flower 

Way down by a silvery rill ; 
'Twas cradled to sleep in a rapturous liour 
When all the green forest was still. 

" That flower, when golden and glad was the morning, 

Was shrivelled and wilted and thin ; 
But on the next night, all its chalice adorning, 
The moonbeam still lingered within. 

"Since then has that flower been tender and creamy 

Wherever its petals have blown ; 
All fragile and pearly and dainty and dreamy 
Is the night-blooming cereus known." 

" That is indeed very pretty," observed the Owl 
when the Squirrel had paused ; " it is indeed a beau- 
tiful little gem, and I trust that you may not mistake 
my enthusiastic praise for patronage. I am blest with 


a fond poetic soul, and that is why I am capable of 
appreciating your sweet little song." 

" It is very kind of you to be so favorably im- 
pressed," replied the Squirrel, timidly ; " I appreciate 
your kindly criticism very much." 

" I greatly prefer funny poems," said Johnny 
" funny poems about giants and witches and pirates." 

" They are very good in their way," broke in the 
Owl, "but I prefer something less evanescent. If we 
read for amusement, why cannot we be amused by the 
serious as much as by that which leans to the ludi- 
crous. Sometimes, you know, a serious thing makes 
us laugh and a funny thing does not. Now " 

" There goes the bird of wisdom pouring forth his 
philosophy on the poetic cult !" exclaimed the Squirrel. 
" Did you ever play steam poetry ?" 

"What is steam poetry?" asked Johnny and the 

" It's a kind of poetry," replied the Squirrel, " in 
which you keep up the rhyming as long as you can 
find a rhyme without stopping to think about the 
metre, which is generally most effective through any 
irregularity that has an audacious happy-go-lucky air. 
Would you like to try a game ?" 

"Yes, certainly, certainly," they replied together. 
" Let's begin right away." 

"All right. Now I'll begin by saying two lines, 
then Johnny must follow with two lines, and the Owl 
must add two, and that will make a verse. Then we 
will keep it up until we can't keep it up any longer, 
How does this strike you for a title ? ' The Romaunt 
of the Higglede-piggiddy and the Sensitive Baraboo.' " 

" First-rate." 

" All right," said the Squirrel. " Here we go :" 



THE SQUIRREL. The Higglede-piggiddy fell in love 
With the sensitive Baraboo; 

JOHNNY. He loved her so very intensely that 

He didn't know what to do 

THE OWL. Tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit! 

Tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo ! 


THE SQUIRREL. The Higglede-piggiddy, all upset, 
In a vacant dream would sit, 

JOHNNY. And whether he fell asleep or not, 

He cared not a single bit 

THE O\VL. Tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo ! 

Tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit! 

THE SQUIRREL. Oh, silly Higglede-piggiddy, don't 
Come hither to bill and coo ; 

JOHNNY. I cnn only your loving sister be,, 

Said the sensitive Baraboo 

THE OWL. Tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit ! 

Tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo ! 

THE SQUIRREL. The Higglede-piggiddy then and there 
A cigarette coolly lit ; 


JOHNNY. To-morrow her letters, one and all, 

Unto her shall I transmit 
THE OWL. Tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo! 

Tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit ! 

THE SQCIRREL. The Higglede-piggiddy didn't fume 
Or make a great hullabaloo; 

JOHNNY. Oh, not in his pocket-handkerchief 

Did he spill one small boo-hoo 

THE OWL. Tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit! 

Tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo ! 

THE SQCIRREL. He sang each day in his usual way, 

As gay as the gay torn-tit ; 
JOHNNY. He circled about like the swallow spry, 

Or the goose on the whirling spit 
THE OWL. Tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo ! 

Tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit ! 

THE SQCIRREL. The Higglede-piggiddy's now forgot, 

Like the sensitive Baraboo ; 
JOHNNY. They're a blank from the famous Russian steppes 

To the village of Kickapoo 
THE OWL. Tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit ! 

Tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo ! 

THE SQCIRREL. Like them we may all be laid away 
If we here in the dew-fall sit, 

JOHNNY. So into the cabin sumptuous 

I think we had better flit 

THE OWL. Tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo, tu-woo ! 

Tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whit ! 

" Why don't you go ahead ?" asked the Owl. 

" It is all well enough for you to talk about going 
ahead, when all you have to do is to tag a ' tu-woo ' 
and a ' tu-whit ' on the end. I suppose you could 
keep it up all day long," said the Squirrel, sarcastically. 


" There is no necessity for your being vexed," 
observed the Owl, apologetically. " I would not offend 
you for the world no, not for the moon itself." 

As soon as the smile of forgiveness lighted the 
Squirrel's face, the tear of regret fell from the Owl's 
green eye, and turned to a lovely purple flower, that 
took root and grew out of the deck. 

" I suppose you could weep a garden if you tried," 
said Johnny ; " but please do not try, unless you can 
weep strawberries. How long do you think it will 
take us to reach the moon ?" 

"We shall be in the moon by 9.27 A.M. to-morrow," 
replied the Squirrel. 

" I fancied we were getting near it," said Johnny, 
" for now the earth, silvered by the moon, looks like 
a two-grain quinine pill bobbing about there in the 

They all looked over, and, sure enough, there was 
the earth scarcely discernible, and every moment the 


pearly boat was drifting away from it, the crimson 
sail idly flapping on the mast of ivory. Whether at 
that time they were over Africa or China they could 
not tell, and after some speculation as to their posi- 


tion, they thought it prudent to follow the hint given 
in the final stanza of " The Romaunt of the Higglede- 
piggiddy and the Sensitive Baraboo." 

So the three descended to the cabin ; and a most 
lovely cabin it was. Johnny and the Owl could scarcely 
believe their eyes when they saw all its beauties un- 
folded before them. It seemed simply absurd to them 
to imagine that their beautiful air-ship of pearl could 
have once been a plain tawny pumpkin, and later a 
carriage and horses. Although the carriage and horses 
were beautiful in every respect, they were not to be 
compared for loveliness to the dainty vessel that was 
bearing them to Moonland, while it floated through 
the ripples of the great white orb as gracefully as an 
iridescent bubble. The furniture of the cabin was 
made entirely of pearl, and every light was a moon in 
miniature, and each little moon circled about in a 
minute orbit just above a fountain that was lovely in 
a continuous spirtle of stars. Of course the cabin was 
flooded with the most delicate light, and this light was 
sifted through the finest of silken draperies draperies 
so fine that they seemed made of cloud gossamer as 
they gently swayed in the opalescent glow. 

" You can now imagine what I have suffered," said 
the Squirrel, " when you consider what I have to make 
me happy, and then reflect that for purloining the 
nuts from a cake I have been compelled to be a squirrel 
and live on nuts for months. I don't believe I shall 
ever be able to look upon a cake again without a 
shudder, and as for essaying to partake of any, I should 
be so afraid that it might contain a forbidden nut that 
I should no more think of eating it than I should now 
think of flying, when I am not a flying-squirrel. Just 
listen I" 


When the Squirrel paused the cabin was filled with 
gentlest music that floated about as mysteriously as 
the light itself. When it played an imitation of the 
wind rippling through the trees in spring, the scent of 
blossoms filled the air, and the minstrelsy of birds ran 
through it in the most delightful manner. And then 
it would play the music of autumn, and permeate the 
symphony with the delicious wood scents peculiar to 
that dreamy season. The murmur of the sea lent its 
subtle influence, and the rustle of reeds was to be dis- 
tinctly heard ; and it changed from one to the other, 
and varied the changes until the place was enchanted. 
And while this dulcet spell was thrown over them, 
they drifted off to a less beautiful dream-land, out of 
which they were to awake in the snowy bowers of the 


WHEN the light of morning dawned, the Squirrel, 
Johnny, and the Owl awoke, feeling greatly refreshed 
by their night's rest in the luxurious moon ship. But 
the Owl and Johnny were as greatly surprised as they 
were refreshed to find that they were not in the boat 
at all, but back in the Cinderella carriage, being drawn 
rapidly over a silvery moon road to the palace of the 
Squirrel's father, King Silversmith the Tenth. 

The road was snow white, and the dust was like the 
finest flour. The Squirrel was as happy as a King, 
though in reality but a Prince. Johnny was not so 
happy, however, on account of the blinding glare of 
everything with which his vision came in contact. 

"Don't you find this glare blinding?" asked Johnny. 

" Not at all," replied the Owl" not at all. To me 
it's as soft as a June landscape, because my eyes are 

The Squirrel was greatly amused at this, but Johnny 
said nothing, and they drove along for some miles, the 
Squirrel probably being too happy at returning to his 
home, and Johnny and the Owl being too much over- 
come by the surrounding marvels and the novelty of 
all about them to indulge very freely in conversation. 
Up hill and down dale they went over the pearly roads, 
until they discerned in the dim distance a great white 
tower the tower of the magnificent palace of Silver- 
smith the Tenth. 


" There may be no such thing as an Arabian 
night," said Johnny, " but this truly seems an Arabian 

And the Squirrel involuntarily burst forth : 

" Silver meadow, silver flower, 

Silver winding stream, 
Silver lily on the silver, 

In a silver dream ; 
Silver maples, silver birches, 

In a silver spray, 
Silver birds sing silver lyrics 

All the silver day." 

It was a lovely prospect. As the Squirrel intimated 
in his song, each object seemed to be of silver and 
pearl. It was quite as white as the earth is green, and 
there was not a bit of view along the way that had not 
some peculiar charm of its own. There was no such 
thing as monotony, aside from the whiteness that 
characterized almost everything. On and on they 
went, and nearer and nearer the palace appeared, until 
finally, when they least expected it, the little carriage 
whirled around a sudden bend in the road and shot 
under a large archway, and in another instant was in 
front of the palace. 

Silversmith the Tenth stood at the bottom step of 
the great edifice, surrounded by Roseflake, the lovely 
Princess whose cake the Squirrel had rifled of its nuts, 
and all the courtiers. As soon as the carriage stopped, 
the Squirrel jumped out upon the palace steps, and 
when he alighted on the same he was changed back to 
Flowerbell, the Moon Prince. Johnny and the Owl 
could scarcely realize that the Prince in the white silk 
mantle, over which a great mass of shimmering golden 


curls fell in wild profusion, was the gray squirrel with 
whom they had been travelling. 

Flowerbell rushed to the embrace of Silversmith the 
Tenth, and vowed that he would never eat nut -cake 
again. Koseflakc forgave him for having purloined 
the nuts even the magic Brazil-nut from the great 
cake that was intended as the crowning triumph of her 

Johnny and the Owl were welcomed, especially the 
Owl, whose ancestors belonged in the moon, and flour- 
ished in it until exiled by Moonshine the Seventh, as 
related in a former chapter. The King never supposed 
the moon would know another owl, and he was very 
profuse in his thanks to Flowerbell for having the 
forethought to invite a specimen to accompany him 

But the fairies could not understand Johnny. He 
seemed as queer in their eyes as they did in his. Be- 
fore seeing him they had only read of human beings, 
but did not believe they really existed. When they 
became acquainted with him, the fairies taxed him 
with all kinds of questions relative to what they called 
earth life, and had him relate various experiences, all 
of which they enjoyed, but none of which they be- 
lieved. For instance, they did not believe that it re- 
quired a whole summer to ripen an apple on earth. 
They really believed that the earth tree could be touch- 
ed by a wand like a fairy moon tree, and the apples 
caused to appear at once fully ripe. 

At table Johnny was greatly annoyed because the 
fairies stared at him so much, and regarded him as 
something supernatural. 

But when he complained to Flowerbell, that merry 
little Prince threatened to have them turned into soup- 


plates "without being deprived of their sense of feel- 
ing. When they heard this threat and thought of 
the hot soup, and the man who had been turned into 
a pair of nut -crackers, they promised not to regard 
Johnny as anything more than an ordinary rational 

" I will look out for you, Johnny," said Flowerbell. 
" They probably don't like you because you are my 
playmate. Would you like to come and see my fa- 
ther's library ?" 

" Indeed I should like to very much !" 

" Well, follow me." 

Johnny followed, and after passing through various 
halls they entered the sumptuous library of Silversmith 
the Tenth. The Librarian was sitting in front of the 
grandest fireplace Johnny ever saw, smoking ciga- 
rettes, and blowing the smoke from his eyes in the 
dreamiest manner. 

A dog lying on a rug arose, stretched himself, and 
said, "fionjour /" 

Then he left the room, and Johnny not knowing 
what to make of it, Flowerbell said, " That is the 
French Poodle that cannot speak English." 

And then the Librarian blew a greater cloud of 
smoke than before through his eyes and sang : 

" Ash Bol Bol Car 
Car Cod Code Dem- 
Dem Eye Eve Gla 
Tra, la, la, la, la ! 

" Gla HorHor Kin- 
Kin Mag Mag Mot 
Mot Pal Pal Pri 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha !" 



Then he blew another great clond of smoke from 
his eyes, and laughed with great gusto. 

" What in the world has he been reciting ?" asked 

" Nothing," answered Flowerbell, in reply to John- 
ny's question, " but the 
syllables on the backs 
of some of the volumes 
of the encyclopaedia 
the syllables that indi- 
cate the contents." 

The Librarian smiled, 
and again broke into a 
violent laugh, at which 
moment his sombre 
garments turned into 
light gay colors, and 
all over them appeared 
queer funny charac- 
ters, something like 
those on a Japanese 

" His clothing indi- 
cates his state of mind," 
explained Flowerbell. 
" When he is in a sad, 
reflective condition, 
his clothing is black. 
When he is in a dreamy 

frame, his garments are lit up by a delicate landscape, 
with cloud ships in the airy distance, and butterflies 
tilting on crimson flower bells, etc. But when he is in 
a funny mood But he is in a funny mood now, and 
you may see for yourself." 



Johnny looked, and was greatly astonished to see a 
Chinese clown running downhill on a barrel, while 
fanning himself with a flock of doves with one hand, 
and throwing soap circulars about with the other. 
Running across from waistcoat -pocket to waistcoat- 
pocket was a suspended string of sausages. And out 
of one pocket a little man popped, and ran across on 
the sausage string and disappeared in the other. 

" Why does not he come out again ?" asked 

" Because he is asleep," answered the Librarian, 

His cigarette went out, and his displeasure caused 
his garments to resume their usual sombre tone. 

" What are those little men on the shelf ?" asked 
Johnny, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

" Those are the story manikins," replied the Prince. 
" They serve for books. Instead of reading, as you 
earth people do, we have little men that tell us stories. 
Would you like to hear one of them recite a little poem 
- a favorite of mine ?" 

Johnny said he would be only too happy to hear the 

" Let's have Almanac Bland," said the Prince ; " the 
man that tells the seasons with his whiskers and hair." 

The Librarian took down one of the little men, and 
stood him on the table. When the spring by which he 
was wound up had been touched, he commenced: 


" What a curious mortal is Almanac Bland, 

E'er so peaceful and calm and Rerene ! 
In the spring, when the flowers empurple the land, 
Both his hair and his whiskers are green. 


"When the poppy's aflame in the wind-rippled wheat, 

And the sunflowers gayly unfold, 

Then his hair and his whiskers grow down to his feet 
In a tangle of shimmering gold. 

" When the soft zephyr strays through the corn, yellow turned, 

And the bee and the robin have fled, 
Then his whiskers are into a deep russet burned, 
And his hair to mahogany red. 

"But whene'er the bleak winter moans over the plain, 

And the snow scurries on in its flight, 
Then his hair and his whiskers, transmuted again, 
Blow a delicate lilyful white." 

Then the manikin bowed, and was put back in his 

" Now," said the Prince, " let's have ' The Adopted 
Nephew of the Sage-green Elephant with the Glass 
Eye.' " 

" Can't do it, I'm sorry to say," replied the Librarian. 
" The manikin that tells the story of ' The Adopted 
Nephew of the Sage-green Elephant with the Glass 
Eye ' had his main-spring broken yesterday while pro- 
nouncing the word ' pterodactyl.' He is now being 
repaired, and the word 'pterodactyl' is going to be 
eliminated from the story." 

" I believe," soliloquized Johnny, " that this is all a 
dream. I think I am now at home in Vermont fast 
asleep on my corn -husk mattress, and that before I 
know it I shall wake up and have to go down-stairs 
and study my lessons." 

He did not awake, however, but continued to walk 
about the library with Flowerbell, who promised that 
on the first rainy day he might hear all the stories that 
the manikins could tell. There were several hundred 


of these manikins classified according to their style of 
story, so Johnny looked forward with great delight to 
the first rainy day. 

Just at this juncture the King, Silversmith the Tenth, 
rushed violently into the library, and fell into a chair 
in a great state of fright. 

" Beat them off ! Beat them off !" shouted the King. 

" Beat what off ?" asked the Librarian. 

" The white moon bears !" shouted the King. " Don't 
you see them ?" 

" Oh yes !" said the Librarian. And with that he 
picked up a poker, and commenced beating the air 
violently. "That is the last of those white moon 

The King was profuse in his thanks, and as a rec- 
ognition of the Librarian's services turned his empty 
pocket-book into one full of coins. 

" I didn't see any bears," said Johnny. 

" They're imaginary bears," explained Flowerbell. 
"The King has a very powerful imagination so power- 
ful, in fact, that when he imagines a thing it is to him 
a reality. It would not be well for us if we were to 
tell him there were no bears. The Librarian knows 
there was none as well as we ; yet, like a faithful serv- 
ant, he set to work and went through the act of kill- 
ing two specimens, just to satisfy the King that he 
was not laboring under a mistake when he was. In 
all probability the King was simply thinking that he 
would like some bear steaks for dinner, when the steaks 
grew, in his imagination, to bears, who pursued him 
with a spirit of vengeance. It is a terrible malady, and 
the only one that tends to make Silversmith the Tenth 
at all unhappy or dissatisfied with his lot. On one oc 
casion he imagined he was a rabbit, and insisted on 



blinking, and twisting his nose incessantly. He would 
do this at table, and sometimes make the servants 
laugh. One servant manifested such a keen apprecia- 
tion of the humor of the situation that he is now act- 
ing in the capacity of a kitchen pot. The King makes 
it a point to have all the rabbits cooked in this pot, 
and the pot, being endowed with a knowledge of its 
fate, simply boils at the sight of a rabbit. Not the 
least painful feature of that hallucination of Silver- 
smith the Tenth lay in the fact that he insisted upon 


being carried about by the ears. Now fancy a couple 
of servants, each holding an ear, carrying the King 

" Flowerbell," said the King, pleasantly, for the de- 
struction of the bears made him good-natured, " I can- 


not express to you the keen pleasure I feel every time 
I reflect upon the fact that you have brought the Owl 
back to the moon. It is many years since the moon 
has seen an owl, and many of our people regard this 
bird as a myth. The owl was originally white moon 
white but the earth turned it brown. The light of 
the moon is its proper tone, if you can call that a tone. 
Now to-morrow night I am going to give a ball in honor 
of the Owl's return, and on that occasion this bird, dear 
to my heart, as a lover and patriot of the moon, shall 
assume his original mooney glow " 

" Mooney is an Irish surname, and might be mis- 
leading," broke in the Prince. "I think moon -glow 
sounds better." 

" Moon-glow it is, then," said Silversmith, smiling. 
"The Owl shall assume the moon -glow of his ances- 

" But we must not have a cake with nuts in it !" ex- 
claimed the Prince. 

" No," replied the King ; " but one thing we must 
make an entree of is that tender little musk -sheep 
down in the meadow, where Oh, oh, the room is 
full of musk-sheep trying to butt me to death !" roared 
the King. " Musk-sheep on the piano, under the piano, 
rushing in the door-way, and jumping down the chim- 
ney. Kill them ! kill them !" 

The King ran this way and that, and made desperate 
lunges and kicks at the musk -sheep that were trying 
to do him to death. 

Finally the cooks rushed in with knives, and made 
motions as though grabbing the sheep and killing them. 
They worked away for something like twenty minutes, 
killing off these imaginary sheep, and when they were 
through, they said : 


" We are glad that we arrived just in time." 
" Take the carcasses out," said the King, " and give 
all but one bear and one musk-sheep to the poor, and 
those two serve up in your very best style for the grand 
ball to be given to-morrow night in honor of the Owl's 
return to the moon." 

FLOWERBELL motioned to Johnny to follow him out 
into the garden, .and when there suggested that they 
keep away from Silversmith the Tenth for a while, 
and allow him to get over his fright caused by the 
imaginary musk-sheep : 

" Because you cannot tell what might happen. If 
I had only kept out of his way after taking the nuts 
from Roseflake's cake, I don't for a moment believe 
he would have turned me into a squirrel and sent me 
to the earth for six months. It would be dishearten- 
ing if he were to serve us in some such fashion just 
as a grand feast and ball are to be given in honor of 
the Owl ; so we had better keep a little farther from 
the palace and avoid danger." 

Johnny agreed that this would be the best plan to 
pursue, and they wandered through a mass of shrub- 
bery until they reached the lower end of the garden. 
At this part of the garden there was a great bed of 
cabbages, and each cabbage had on a high white hat. 
Some of them were red, some were green, and one tall 
one in the centre was a rich purple. As they ap- 
proached, all the cabbages raised their hats politely. 

" That is about the strangest thing I have yet seen 
in Moonland !" said Johnny, in a startled manner. 
" What do they mean ?" 

" They are simply a lot of polite cabbages," replied 


Flowerbell; "they always raise their hats. That 
big purple fellow over there is the Cabbage King, 
and he is now waiting for me to ask him who he is, 
in order that he may sing his song in reply. He sings 
the song, and the other cabbages, his subjects, sing 
the chorus." 

" Is it a good song ?" asked Johnny. 

" The first time you hear it, it is pretty good," re- 
plied Flowerbell ; " but when you have heard it as 
frequently as I have it seems to lose its piquancy." 

" But I have never heard it," said Johnny ; " and 
as you say it is good the first time, I should like to 
hear it very much. Can you stand it again ?" 

" I am not positive," murmured Flowerbell, re- 
flectively, "but I'll try, if you would hear the 

Then he turned and faced the polite cabbages, 
every one of which raised its hat and seemed to be en- 
deavoring to lapse into a pleasant smile. As they 
raised their hats, Flowerbell looked at the King, and 
asked, rather sharply, 

" Who are you anyhow ?" 

And the Cabbage King raised himself an inch 
higher and removed his high hat an extra high one, 
which was his crown and sang : 


" I'm King of the cabbages green ; 

I'm King of the cabbages red ; 
I'm a purple cabbage of royal mien, 

With a sensible level head. 
All my subjects I hold most dear, 

They respect my power and might, 
And unto all persons that venture near 

We're considerate and polite. 


Chorus " We're a lot of cabbages, one and all ; 

We're very polite, and that's 
The reason that we, unto great and small, 
Prefer to remove our hats 
Our hats, our hats, our hats, our hats 
Prefer to remove our hats." 

"From the nightfall ifnto the morn, 

By my cabbages green and red, 
A soothing and sensible hat is worn 

To prevent a cold in the head ; 
And through having to wear a hat, 

That our health may continue right, 
We raise it to every person that 

We be known as very polite. 

Chorus " We're a lot of cabbages, one and all ; 

We're very polite, and that's 
The reason that we, unto great and small, 
Prefer to remove our hats 
Our hats, our hats, our hats, our hats 
Prefer to remove our hats." 

"But I'm filled with a secret grief, 

And in spite of myself I shout: 
May I ne'er be boiled with the red corned-beef, 

Or be made into sauer-kraut; 
May I not in the form of slaws 

Any epicure's fork invite. 
My delicate sorrow is all because 

I'm so sensitive and polite. 

Chorus " We're a lot of cabbages, one and all ; 

We're very polite, and that's 
The reason that we, unto great and small, 
Prefer to remove our hats 
Our hats, our hats, our hats, our hats 
Prefer to remove our hats." 

" Indeed that is a very lively song, and I am not a 


little surprised to hear anything of the kind from a 
cabbage," said Johnny, with solemn deliberation. 

" Yes," responded Flowerbell, not a little overcome 
at his playmate's expression of wonder ; " it is not so 
bad for a cabbage, especially when you first hear it ; 
but I can tell you the Cabbage King is as vain as po- 
lite. Now I am going to humor him." So Flowerbell 
looked at the Cabbage King and shouted : 

" Who are you ? who are you ? 
Who are you ? who are you, 


Who are you ? who are you ? 

Who are you ? who are you, 


" What does all that mean ?" asked Johnny. 

" It means," responded Flowerbell, with a smile that 
made manifest his keen sense of the ridiculous, " that 
the Cabbage King sings that song every time he is 
asked who he is, and he enjoys it, too, I can assure 
you. He can now enjoy himself singing it eight 

This statement struck Johnny as being very funny, 
and wishing to satisfy himself that Flowerbell was not 
chaffing him, he watched his chance and looked 
around, and, sure enough, the cabbages were doffing 
their hats in the most polite fashion, while the 
chorus could be distinctly heard where they were 

The moon garden was a beautiful bower of fragrance 
and airy rest. It was only a garden in name, how- 
ever, because it covered several miles of moon. The 
gradual slopes and the murmurous valleys seemed as 
though made to wander and dream in, and as Flower- 
bell and Johnny roved along, the latter said : 


" I do miss the Owl so much ! Suppose we go 
back and hunt him up." 

" The Owl is all right, Johnny," replied Flowerbell, 
as he cut the air with a wand and severed a lily from 
its stem " the Owl is all right. He is being fed on 
sweetmeats to turn his feathers white and make him 
like the original moon owl. You will be surprised 
when you see him at the ball to-morrow night. You 
will see that instead of being melancholy and wise, he 
will be melancholy and funny. And after the ball is 
over, you know the King gives a picnic, in honor of 
my return, on the banks of the Molasses River." 

" Look there !" exclaimed Johnny, in great surprise. 

As they looked, they saw the lily that Flowerbell 
had cut from its stem floating about in the air like 
a bird. 

"That is nothing," Flowerbell explained, with a 
smile. " It is simply waiting for a stem to grow out 
of it, and descend and take root in the ground. Do 
you see those tea-biscuits over there rustling in undu- 
late beauty ?" 

" No, I do not," responded Johnny, " and I don't 
believe that tea-biscuits can rustle, either. I see a 
field of wheat over in the direction in which you point, 
but I don't see any tea-biscuits." 

" The wheat in the moon grows on the potato prin- 
ciple," Flowerbell explained. "You pull up a few 
wands of wheat, and you find the tea-biscuits on the 
roots. See here." 

Flowerbell then pulled up a handful of wheat, and 
the roots were full of the most delicious tea-biscuits 
Johnny ever tasted. It was then made clear to him 
that a peculiar warmth in the moon mould not only 
rounded all vegetables to a beautiful perfection, but 



afterwards cooked and preserved them. No moon 
farmer ever dreamed of garnering his crops until they 
were cooked, and many did not take them in at that 
time, preferring to allow them to remain until wanted 
in a state of peerless preservation. 

"When the asparagus pops out of the ground," 
said a farmer who overheard the conversation, "it is 
ready to eat, like an earth apple. We have fields of 
stewed and fried potatoes, and even our poultry and 
sheep are cooked for us just before they reach that 
age when nature toughens them. It is very pleasant 
to be able to step out and pluck sweet-corn just hot 
enough to be delicious, and all garnished with butter 
and pepper and salt. I never feel the independence 
of the farmer so keenly as at the time I see my roasted 
ducks swimming about in the gravy pond at the foot 
of the hill. There is one of my roasted pigs over there 
hoeing the hills of beans." 

As the Farmer paused, the pig came closer. He was 
a polka-dotted specimen, and had on a large straw hat 



and eye-glasses. He hoed away to the time of a live- 
ly song, which ran as follows : 


"I'm an agricultural pig, 

And I love these quiet scenes, 
Where I frequently dance a jig 

While hoeing the blooming beans. 
My heart is as light as a cork 

Among my favorite greens, 
For I am the pork, pork, pork, 

And they are the beans, beans, beans. 
In all kinds of weather 
We're happy together, 
For we are the pork and the beans." 

Chorus by the beans. 

"Oh, we are the beans, beans, beans! 

And he is the pork, pork, pork ! 
And we have no horror of soup tureens, 
The spoon or the knife and fork." 

" I'm a rapturous Roasted Pig, 

And my rapture simply means 
I'm contented to hoe and dig 
Among these delicate beans. 
Oh, I hop like the slender stork, 

While my hoe the weedlet gleans ; 
Oh, I am the pork, pork, pork ! 
And they are the beans, beans, beans. 
In all kinds of weather 
We're happy together, 
For we are the pork and beans." 

Chorus by the beans. 

" Oh, we are the beans, beans, beans ! 

And he is the pork, pork, pork ! 
And we have no horror of soup tureens, 
The spoon or the knife and fork." 


" That is a very clever song," said Flowerbell, with a 
smile. " It is exceedingly clever and well turned, and 
I think you should be encouraged. Would you like 
to go to the Owl's ball to-morrow night ?" 

" Whv, there hasn't been an owl in the moon," re- 
plied the Roasted Pig, " since Moonshine the Seventh 
exiled the whole race because a facetious member en- 
deavored by way of a joke, be it said to sell him a 
phial of hair-curling fluid, when he, Moonshine the 
Seventh, had not a hair on his head. You must have 
read the history of the moon, surely !" 

" I have," replied the Moon Prince ; " but I recently 
visited the earth, and met an owl, who, for all I know 
to the contrary, may be a lineal descendant of the very 
perpetrator of the hair-curling jest. It was decreed at 
the time the owls were exiled that no one should " 

" I know the whole story quite well," broke in the 
Roasted Pig. "Excuse me for my seeming rudeness 
in interrupting you, but the incident is set forth at 
considerable length in Mooney's Moon, Vol. XIV., 
page 117." 

" Now, then, I want you to answer my question 
would you like to go to the Owl's ball to-morrow 

" Very much indeed thanks," replied the Roasted 
Pig, removing his hat, and carefully wiping his eye- 
glasses ; " nothing could afford me higher pleasure." 

" Why, what a very polite pig !" said Johnny. " I 
never saw such manners before ; and he has a com- 
pany voice, too. Was he this way before he was 
cooked ?" 

" I presume he must have been," Flowerbell replied, 
"because I don't think such a style could be ac- 



" Why, he is fit to go to dancing-school," suggest- 
ed Johnny, thoughtfully ; " and speaking of dancing, I 
wish it were now time for the Owl's ball." 


Just then Johnny found himself sitting on the back 
of a beautiful moon horse. 

" What does this mean ?" he asked. 

"Simply," replied the Moon Prince, "that in this 
land, which strikes you as being so queer though it 
is not in reality as strange as the earth wishes are 
horses. You wished it time for the Owl's ball, and 
there's the regulation horse." 

" Pardon me," said the Roasted Pig, " but I must not 
neglect my beans. I wish you good-day." As soon 



as he concluded with " I wish you good-day," another 
horse capered away over the farm, with the Roasted 
Pig on his back. 

" I suppose I must ride, too ?" said Johnny. 
" You must," responded the Moon Prince. 
" But I don't know how to ride. Now how can I 
ride if I don't know how to ?" 

" The best way you can," said Flowerbell. " You 
must learn not to wish. We are all supposed to be so 
happy here that wishing is superfluous." 

" I wish that wishes were rocking-horses," Johnny 
observed, as he clung to the mane of his steed, " for 
then I should be at least able to stick on. But who is 
this strange creature walking past those silvery ja- 

ponicas ?" 

Before the Moon 
Prince could tell him 
that the curious 
person approaching 
was Tumpty Turn 
the Rhymer, Johnny 
found himself stand- 
ing on two horses, 
the second one being 
his wish that wishes 
were hobby-horses. 

"And who is 
Tumpty Turn the 
Rhymer ?" 

"Tumpty Turn the 
Rhymer," said the 

Moon Prince, " is our chief oddity. He is a sort of 
wandering minstrel, who pours out moon legends to any 
one that will listen to him. Let's get out of his way." 



So they secreted themselves behind a tree, and 
Tumpty Turn went by, mumbling a lot of rhyme, and 
appearing to be greatly carried away by it. As the 
Moon Prince and Johnny listened, they heard him 


"Way down in the mead, where the dappled woodpeckers 

Are drumming away on the tree, 
I just saw the black and the cardinal checkers 
A-jumping around in their glee. 

"They're jumping about like a lot of grasshoppers; 

I think they are playing leap-frog; 
A-flash in the air like a shower of coppers, 
A-joggeddy, joggeddy, jog ! 

" Oh my, but the checkers enjoy, and most keenly, 

Their spry little frolicsome vaults; 
I noticed a king turn, while smiling serenely, 
A couple of back summersaults. 

"I know that each checker, like little Jack Horner, 

When weary will wearily leap 
Unto the repose of the board's double corner 
To drift to the valley of sleep." 

Before Johnny could say anything to express his 
wonder, Tumpty Turn the Rhymer passed out of sight, 
and the Moon Prince observed : 

"That is only an incident of the Toy Garden. I 
suppose you would like to see that, wouldn't you ?" 

Johnny of course was only too anxious to see and 
enjoy the marvels of this magic enclosure, and no 
sooner had he informed the Moon Prince than the 
farmer said, 

" I should like very much to go also." 


" And so should I," warbled the Roasted Pig. " I am 
ahead of time in my work, not a weed mars the pros- 
perity of my beloved beans, and I should greatly en- 
joy the wonders of the Toy Garden." 

The Moon Prince consented, and with Johnny, the 
farmer, and the Roasted Pig moved in the direction of 
that bower of joy. The Roasted Pig rested on the arm 
of the farmer, the Prince walked gracefully alone, 
and Johnny rode on the two wish-horses. 


As soon as Flowerbell and his companions reached 
the wicket of the Toy Garden, Johnny learned that he 
could rid himself of the wish - horses, because, as the 
Moon Prince explained, they had to remain in the en- 
closure in which they were wished into existence. It 
was a great relief to Johnny, because he didn't under- 
stand the art of riding, and was at a loss to manage 
the second horse. They had no sooner entered the Toy 
Garden than they met another horse. 

" Tell me whose wish you are," demanded Flower- 

" I am the wish of Silversmith the Tenth," replied 
the horse, politely. " He was just down here, and wished 
he could get over the mania of believing to be real the 
wild fancies that sometimes fill his mind. He just 
thought he was being pursued by a man who was going 
to make a circus poodle of him, and when I sprang into 
existence he made me run at the top of my speed to 
escape his pursuer. As I was running along he said 
to himself, ' To have to sit on a barrel and smoke a 
pipe ; to have to jump through a balloon ; to race up 
one ladder and down another ; to have to wear a sol- 
dier's cap made of a newspaper, and walk down an in- 
clined plane on one's hind-legs on a ball oh my ! oh 
my ! oh my !' A great fear shook the frame of Silver- 
smith the Tenth, and at his request I hurried to the 


wicket, where he dismounted, and ran for dear life to 
the palace." 

" We must not venture near him, then," said Flower- 
bell, cautiously. " I am very glad that the idle ballad 
of Tumpty Turn the Rhymer suggested to me the beau- 
tiful idea of coming into the Toy Garden. As a matter 
of fact, I have not been in this interesting enclosure 
for six or eight several moons." 

" How old is the moon, anyhow ?" asked Johnny. 

" Gracious !" exclaimed the farmer, " did you hear 
that ridiculous question ?" 

" You should remember," observed the Roasted Pig, 
smilingly, " that Johnny is at present the guest and 
playmate of the Moon Prince, and therefore you should 
show him more courtesy." 

The Moon Prince complimented the Roasted Pig on 
his appreciation of the attention due a guest, and com- 
mented with great severity on the uncouthness of the 
farmer, who was so dazed that he was at a loss for an 
apology, although he fumbled in the crown of his hat 
as though to find one there. 

" But how old is the moon, anyhow ?" Johnny re- 
peated, to turn the conversation, and give the poor 
disconsolate farmer an opportunity to regain his men- 
tal equilibrium. 

" It is never more than a month old," replied Flower- 
bell. "After it is a month old it becomes a new moon 
again. That is why we are so fresh and lively. But' 
let us hurry along to see the checkers jump." 

So they wended their way through the pearly bowers 
of the Toy Garden until they reached the little meadow 
mentioned by Tumpty Turn the Rhymer. Here they 
.found the checkers having a glorious time. The check- 
er-board, which was designed to counterfeit a book, had 



on the back for a title, Mooney's Moon, L, II. It lay 
open on the grass, and the checkers were having a most 
exciting game. The lazy checkers would allow them- 
selves to be jumped to get out of the game. As soon 


as a checker was jumped he would stand to one side. 
It was astonishing to see the kings jump backward 
when there was a chance to take three men. Finally 
there was a quarrel as to whose move or jump it was, 
and the game ended rather abruptly. Then they com- 
menced jumping over each other without any reference 
to the game, and when they became fatigued they all 
began jumping for the open board to secure the double 
corners for a good rest. When they were all in, the 
board-~book closed suddenly. 

Then the kites came out of a thicket, like so many 
birds, and began flying about in graceful circles, while 
they wagged their tails affectionately in recognition of 
the presence of the Moon Prince. The latter was as 
greatly flattered at this exhibition as Johnny and the 
Roasted Pig were pleased ; for it was quite as new and 


novel to the Roasted Pig as to the happy playmates of 
the Prince. The farmer said nothing, fearing he might 
get into trouble. But if he said nothing, he smiled all 
over with a sort of childish delight. 

The kites finally retired, and then a humming sound 
filled the air, becoming louder and louder, until a num- 
ber of humming-tops appeared in regular columns, like 
soldiers. As they marched along, the sound changed 
into softest music, for they were supplied with a new 
bird song each. They spun for quite a while, much to 
the delight of all, the Roasted Pig becoming almost 
hysterical joy. But after a while the tops began 
to run down, and as they did so their song became more 
pensive and dreamy, until, just as they were about to 
roll over on their sides, they turned into a flock of 
humming-birds, and flew away into a lot of moon lilies, 
while their music filled the air as with subtlest in- 

" Well, well, well !" was all that Johnny could say, 
as he clapped his hands with delight. 

" It's about the prettiest thing I ever saw," mur- 
mured the Roasted Pig, in tones of unfeigned rapt- 

The farmer was afraid to hazard an opinion, lest he 
provoke the Prince, who said : 

" Here comes Tumpty Turn the Rhymer, who perhaps 
can give us a jingling legend to account for this dainty 
conceit of nature." 

" That can I," replied Tumpty Turn, who had over- 
heard the suggestion of Flowerbell. "It is all owing 
to what happened to one top many moons ago, and 
then became a part of the nature of every top of that 
species. This is the story as well as I can remem- 
ber : 



"Once a top fell asleep while 'twas spinning away, 
And was charmed by a vision delightful and gay. 
Oh, it dreamed it played music, the sweetest e'er heard, 
As it floated about on the wings of a bird. 

" It was when it awoke in the rose-scented dew 
That away in the meadow a minstrel it flew; 
But whene'er into sleep in its spinning 'twould drop 
It was then the sweet minstrel lapsed into a top. 

" And to this very day in the moon-flowers deep 
All the minstrels are tops when they whirl in their sleep, 
But it's just at the moment the pleasant sleep stops, 
That a flock of fine birds are the bright humming-tops. 

" They were gay humming-tops when they spun in our view, 
They are now humming-birds of the loveliest hue, 
But they'll soon change from birds in the moon-flower copse 
To a lot of blue, yellow, and green humming-tops. 

" When the" 

" Oh, come, now," remarked the Moon Prince, " we 
are not so guileless as we may appear, and you must 
not fancy for a moment that you can entertain us for 
more than half a day with a set of verses that run on 
in that style. First the tops fall asleep to wake as 
humming-birds, then as humming-birds fall asleep and 
become tops. That is all very well; but when you 
.come to build verse after verse on that fact it is de- 
lightful if you are simply doing it to kill time, but when 
you come to recite these verses for the edification of 
intelligent creatures, it is pretty fair to assume that the 
intelligent creatures stand a splendid chance of getting 
the worst of it." 

" Horrible ! most horrible !" exclaimed the farmer, 



delighted to have an opportunity to agree with the 
Moon Prince, and efface the impression made by his 
unhallowed outburst when Johnny inquired after the 
aere of the moon. 


" Do humming-birds sing songs ?" asked Johnny. 

" They do in the moon," replied Flowerbell. " They 
are not like your earth humming-birds, that only buzz 
like bees. The humming-birds of the moon sing 

" That is all very true," put in the Roasted Pig, " but I 
yet have my criticism to render upon the 'Top's Dream.' 
As a Roasted Pig I beg to protest against the infliction 
of such a creation upon decent people. It jingles all 


right, but is simply a series of repetitions. I can com- 
pose one like it without thought and on the spot." 

" Do it," they said" do it !" 

So the Roasted Pig wiped his eye-glasses, and while 
fanning himself with his great straw hat, proceeded : 



" There was a cat in Chickadee 

Whose head was large and round; 
Sometimes she slept way up a tree, 
Sometimes upon the ground. 

" When she was happy, slumber-bound 

Upon the grassy sea, 
She wasn't sleeping very sound 
Way up the waving tree. 

" But when asleep way up the tree 

That lisping leaves surround, 
She wasn't alas ! alack ! ah me ! 
A-sleeping on the ground." 

At the close the Roasted Pig turned a hand-spring, and 
tossing his hat and glasses in the air, caught them as 
they descended the hat upon his head, the glasses 
upon his nose. 

" Well done, good Mr. Roasted Pig !" said Johnny. 

" Please don't mister me," replied the Roasted Pig, 
in a tone that showed how put out he was. " Just 
plain Roasted Pig on first acquaintance. When you 
know me a little better you may simply call me Pig, 
and if we should ever become intimate friends I shall 
be happy to have you address me in terms of affection 
as plain Roasted. But never call me Mr. Roasted Pig, 
or Roasted Pig, Esquire." 

Johnny promised to remember this, and to hope for 
the time when he should call him simply Roasted. 

They were all happy but Tumpty Turn the Rhymer. 
He made them feel that he was deeply offended at the 
gratuitous off-hand manner in which they criticised his 
attempt to afford them amusement and instruction. 


" If you didn't like the song, why did you ask me to 
sing it ? I didn't come along asking you if you would 
like to hear the ' Top's Dream,' and requesting you to 
beg me to recite it. I am sure I have gained nothing 
by it." 

" We are all quite certain of that," said the Roasted 
Pig, " and we did not wish to be rude to you for the 
sake of causing you mental pain. We simply wanted 
you to know that you were imposing upon us, though 
perhaps unconsciously. We will assume that you in- 
tended no imposition, and drop the matter." 

" Then I shall feel perfectly justified in keeping upon 
friendly terms with you," replied Tumpty Turn the 

" Oh, look at that !" exclaimed Johnny. 

They all looked, and down the path came the hoops, 
rolling along as though being driven by children. The 
sticks would hit them and guide them round the cor- 
ners in the neatest manner. And then the marbles 
came out and had a game. The Blue Agate divided the 
marbles with the Red Agate, and then they commenced 
to see who could win the bagful. The Red Agate was 
very avaricious, and didn't seem to be able to win 
enough. Whenever he lost a marble he would turn 
redder with feeling than he was naturally. This was 
very amusing to the Blue Agate, who was not avaricious 
at all, but played for the fun of it, and intended return- 
ing his winnings should he be fortunate. One by one 
the marbles went to the avaricious Red Agate, who was 
smiling with happiness. Crack ! crack ! went the mar- 
bles, until every one was in the receptacle of the ava- 
ricious Red Agate. 

" Now, then, let me see if I can' win you !" exclaimed 
the avaricious Red Aerate. 



The Blue Agate set itself up for a mark, and bang 
went the avaricious Red Agate against it. But the ava- 
ricious Red Agate was smashed into a thousand pieces 
and distributed all over the Toy Garden. 

" What a beautiful moral !" observed the Moon Prince. 

" It is just what should happen to every one who 
wants all he sees, and can never be satisfied with a 
substantial success," said Johnny. 

" I am not much of a moralist," murmured the Roast- 
ed Pig, " so I should prefer to be allowed to remain 
silent, and observe the 
wonders of the Toy Gar- 
den at my ease. Just see 
here ; if I am not mis- 
taken these are the lead 
soldiers !" 

Sure enough, there was 
a sound of drumming, 
and down the path came 
the lead soldiers, not 
walking, but gliding 


along on the platforms 

moulded on their feet. The horsemen went ahead, 
and it was a grand sight. Some of the soldiers were 
in red and others in blue, and there were a sufficient 
number of them to stretch almost across the walk and 
make a beautiful lead military display. 

" I suppose if a bullet should hit one of them it 
would become a part of him !" said Johnny. 

The Moon Prince did not reply, and as the Toy Gar- 
den was quite new to the Roasted Pig and the farmer, 
nothing was said, Tumpty Turn the Rhymer not caring 
to again make himself a general butt of ridicule. 

As the lead soldiers passed out of sight, along came 


the Noah's Ark. It was on four wheels, and moved 
along as though wound up. Directly in its rear came 
the elephants, wagging their heads on hinges. Like 
the other animals, they were upon platforms, and the 
platforms ran along on wheels. One of the elephants 
became displeased at some indignity, fancied or real, 
and illustrated his feelings by kicking his hind wheels 
in the air. Behind the elephants came the camels, 
moving dreamily and noiselessly along, as though upon 
a dreary palm-dotted desert far from a crystal spring. 
The camels were followed by the bears on their hinder 
feet, and the bears by the antelopes. 

" What makes that reindeer look so woe-begone and 
disconsolate ?" inquired the Roasted Pig, demurely. 

" I fancy he has had half his face chipped off, and 
the white pine is shining through his painted skin," re- 
plied the Moon Prince. " It does make him look rather 
cast down, I am willing to admit." 

" He should be thankful," observed Johnny, " that 
his face is chipped instead of one of his wheels being 
broken off. What good would his four feet be to him 
if he had but three wheels to get along on ?" 

" Such a condition is altogether too sad to contem- 
plate," put in the Roasted Pig. " W T hat do you say 
if we refrain from contemplating it ?" 

" I am perfectly willing if the rest are," said Tumpty 
Turn the Rhymer. 

Flowerbell and Johnny said they would be only too 
happy not to dwell upon such a sad thing. 

"Now why don't you say something?" demanded 
the Roasted Pig of the farmer. 

" Because I have nothing to say," replied the farmer. 

"Do you always keep still when you have nothing 
to say ?" 


" Always," responded the weary agriculturist, " ex- 
cept when eating." 

" Then," they said in chorus, " you are the wisest man 
we ever met, and we are going to introduce you to Sil- 
versmith the Tenth as the Philosophic Farmer, and 
suggest that he make you a Prime-minister. And we 
shall hereafter treat you with profound respect." 

The Philosophic Farmer seemed greatly pleased, as 
he watched the animals of the Noah's Ark pass out of 
sight around a clump of bushes, and the tin animals 
appear in their wake. The tin animals were quite as 
dignified and self-conscious as tin animals could well 
be as they moved down the path. The spotted horses 
and the brindled cows made a fine display, as did the 
various sheep and pigs. 

" Beautiful animals !" said the Philosophic Farmer, 

" Why don't you say more ?" asked the Moon Prince. 

" Nothing more to be said !" responded the Philo- 
sophic Farmer. 

The Moon Prince then jumped on his foot. 

" Ouch !" exclaimed the Philosophic Farmer. 

" Is that all ?" asked Flowerbell. 

"All that's necessary," responded the Philosophic 
Farmer, seriously. 

Then the stuffed birds followed the tin animals down 
the walk, and soon the whole procession, which was a 
long and imposing one, wound out of sight around a 
corner of the silvery moon path, and all was still. 

" They are rehearsing for the owl's ball," observed 
the Moon Prince, when the procession moved out of 
sight. " To - morrow night at this time we shall be 
there. Suppose we take a little rest under this tree ?" 

They all seated themselves under the tree. 


" Turn it on !" commanded the Moon Prince. 

The tree was an old black one, and apparently dead. 
But as soon as Tumpty Turn the Rhymer turned .the 
crank, similar to one of those on a gas-jet, the whole 
tree was white with the most fragrant flowers, that rip- 
pled in the air, and filled all the Toy Garden with the 
balmy spirit of spring-time. 


THE effect of the old black tree bursting forth into 
blossom on the turning of the crank was something 
not easily described. Tumpty Turn the Rhymer knew 
all about it before, as well as did the Moon Prince. 
But to the Roasted Pig, Johnny, and the Philosophic 
Farmer, it was quite new. The Roasted Pig, though 
raised on a farm, knew little of the agricultural art 
aside from beans, and even the Philosophic Farmer 
himself the man with the agricultural gift had 
never dreamed of anything like it. Occasionally a 
flock of gayly plumed birds would be attracted by 
the odorous blossoms and fly to the tree. But just 
as they were about to alight the Moon Prince would 
twist the crank and turn the flowers off, much to the 
disappointment of the poor birds, that would fly away 
as though under a spell of superstitious awe. 

The Roasted Pig and the Philosophic Farmer apol- 
ogized for their unsociability by saying that they al- 
ways retired for the night early on the farm, and that 
they could scarcely keep their eyes open. They were 
told they might fall asleep if they so desired, and in a 
very few moments they were, no doubt, dreaming of 
the probable success of the bean crop, and a possible 
aftermath of something else. 

And shortly after, the others fell asleep under the 
white flower-tree, and dreamed away the silvery hours 


until it was time to be stirring for another day. Then, 
at the suggestion of Flowerbell, they proceeded to the 
palace to be in readiness for the festivities of the 
evening. It is not necessary to say that their appear- 
ance created some surprise. Princess Roseflake was 
frightened when they appeared where she was reading 
what was to her a fairy tale a tale in an earth book 
which Johnny happened to have when he met Flower- 
bell, then a squirrel, on the fence near his father's 

"I am so glad to see you, Flowerbell, and you too, 
Johnny. But who is the horrid gentleman on your 

" The Philosophic Farmer, the greatest and most 
remarkable man in the whole realm of Silversmith the 

" Why is he so wonderful ?" asked pretty little Rose- 
flake, brushing the amber curls back from the snowiest 
of snowy foreheads. 

" Because," replied Flowerbell, " he never speaks 
when he has nothing to say." 

" And who is this singular creature with the eye- 
glasses ?" asked the Moon Princess, eying the Roasted 
Pig from head to feet. 

" This is the Roasted Pig !" 

The Moon Princess withdrew with apparent aversion, 
and was very much surprised when the Roasted Pig 
made a most polite and diplomatic bow, and said, no- 
ticing her coldness : 

"'Tis true I am but a poor Roasted Pig of little 
pretension. I am a fair authority on the subject of 
beans, and am the bean shepherd, if such a term be 
permissible, of the Philosophic Farmer, who never 
speaks when he has nothing to say. I have come here 



with him and Tumpty Turn the Rhymer at the kind 
invitation of the Prince, your brother, to attend the 
ball given in honor of the return of the Owl to the 
moon, and I trust I may have the honor and the pleas- 
ure of walking through a minuet with you." 

" You are the most charming pig I ever met," re- 
plied the Moon Princess, making a slight bow, " and 
you shall dance with me during the evening." 

The Roasted Pig bowed gracefully in acknowledg- 
ment of the delicate consideration of the Moon Prin- 
cess, while the others were spellbound at his audacity 
in addressing Roseflake in such a familiar manner. 
The Philosophic Farmer said nothing, either because 
he had nothing to say, or because he was too over- 
come for utterance, but at the bottom of his heart he 
entertained a deep-seated respect for the Roasted Pig 
that he had never before felt. 

Roseflake reported that she had been in the kitchen 
a short time before, and that some cakes were being 
made that would astonish them at the feast. Then 
she went away to attend to some duty, and in walked 
the Librarian, blowing smoke from his eyes, followed 
by the French Poodle that could not speak English, 
which made him at home at court. 

The Roasted Pig was frightened when he saw the 
Librarian blowing smoke wreaths from his eyes in 
such a dreamy manner. 

" Perhaps," he said to himself, " this is the fellow 
who smokes pigs, and they have just brought me here 
under the pretence of taking me to a ball in order to 
smoke me." 

" What's the matter ?" asked Flowerbell. 

" I fear that you have brought me here to smoke 
me. If you have, I shall surely be ruined, for a pig 



should be smoked before roasted, and not roasted be- 
fore smoked." 

" Nonsense !" exclaimed the Moon Prince ; which 
sentiment was echoed by Johnny. 

" Why don't you say something to set his mind at 
rest?" they demanded of the 
Philosophic Farmer. 

" Nothing to be said," replied 
the agriculturist. . 

" It would be difficult to lose 
you in the fog," said Johnny, 
wishing to turn the subject of 
conversation, as he watched the 
Librarian walking about through 
the clouds of smoke he emitted. 
" Impossible," was the reply 
of the Librarian. " I can read 
fine type in the densest smoke. 
But my eyes are a little weak 
now, as I got some dust in them 
yesterday while exercising the furniture." 

The Moon Prince and Tumpty Turn the Rhymer 
paid no attention to the remark of the Librarian, as 
the exercising of the furniture was a common weekly 
occurrence. But to the others its meaning was not 
clear. Flowerbell noticed this, and probably thought 
it would be far easier to exercise a table or two than 
to explain it. So he asked the Librarian if he would 
treat them to such a performance. The latter said he 
would be only too happy to comply, as he had a table 
that was greatly fatigued from holding up a number 
of heavy scientific books. In fact, one of its legs was 
defective, and he thought a good run would do it 



So, at a magic word from the Librarian, the table 
stood up on those members which might be termed 
the hinder legs, and capered about more gracefully 
than could have been expected of such a clumsy piece 
of furniture. Then it ran out ; but ran like a dog on 
three legs, on account of the defective member. When 
in the open air it trotted along, and jumped nimbly 
over anything that happened in its way. 

The Librarian guided its movements with a wand, 
and seemed as proud as a ring-master in a country 
circus. Sometimes it would circle round and round, 
and occasionally it would take a good swift run, and 
then slide along on its casters, like a boy on a frozen 
pool. After it had been running about in this way 
for some time, the Librarian shouted to his favorite 
high stool, the one he stood upon to reach books when 
the step-ladder was not to be found, and out it came, 
trotting along like a stork. The manner in which it 
jumped over various objects showed it to be a very 
active stool. It could run very much faster than the 
table, on account of the latter's lame leg, and found 
no trouble in keeping at the front. After a while it 
wearied of running, and jumped lightly upon the ta- 
ble, as a circus equestrian would upon a horse, and 
turned the nimblest summersaults as the table kept 
upon its way. No matter how the table pranced or 
changed its motion, the stool maintained its position 
with the surefootedness of an ibex. After they had 
been at this kind of exercise for perhaps half an hour, 
the Librarian said, 

" Go back to the library." 

Back ran the table, closely followed by the high 
stool, and they were soon in their accustomed places. 

They were followed by Flowerbell, Johnny, and the 



rest of the party, all of .whom had something to say 
on the subject of the furniture circus except the Phil- 
osophic Farmer, who probably imagined that it didn't 
require critical remark. 

Once more in the library, Flowerbell pointed to the 
manikins the little men that told stories upon their 

buttons being touched, and 
saved people the trouble 
of reading and said to 
the Librarian, 

" Please bring down the 
Funny Manikin that tells 
the story of the bottle- 
green step-mother of the 
blue gander that flew away 
with the pearl necklace of 
the cross - eyed Princess 
with the corpulent pug 
that couldn't wake up un- 
til stepped upon." 

" The manikin that tells 
that story is out, being 
duplicated in French that 
it may be enjoyed by the French Poodle that cannot 
speak English. There is a moral in the pug part of 
that story that I would impress upon the French 
Poodle's mind." 

"'Then give us 'Catullus Magee and the Musical 
Tree,' if the manikin is not being oiled to roll off the 
lines smoothly." 

The Librarian looked over the row of manikins, and 
finally found the one he wanted. Taking it down, he 
stood it upon the table, where it bowed politely when 
the button was touched, and began : 




"There was once a small boy named Catullus Magee, 
And his father lived under a musical tree 
That discoursed, when Catullus was hnppy and good, 
The most beautiful airs at the edge of the wood. 

"But whenever Catullus was naughty and bad, 
All the airs of the tree were both doleful and sad. 
And to learn his son's conduct, old Mr. Magee 
Would but have to consult the green musical tree. 

" If the tree gave a woe-begone, sorrowful howl, 
And they missed from the cupboard a patty of fowl, 
Then the father would play, with a movement most rare, 
A quick birchen tattoo on his small son and heir. 

" If the tree made a moan at the noon of the day, 
It declared that Catullus from school was away, 
And without further question, when homeward he came, 
He would find his anatomy more than aflame. 

" When Catullus one day was both merry and good, 
Loud the tree played sad airs at the edge of the wood. 
All awave in the odorous breezes of June, 
The melodious branches were all out of tune. 

" Then said Mr. Magee : ' Oh, no musical tree 
Hence shall make me believe what I can't plainly see ; 
Never more sign or symbol shall govern my acts, 
The next whipping you get shall be founded on facts. 

" ' I have whipped you, though good, when the music was sad.' 
' Yes, indeed, sir, you have,' coincided the lad. 
For each thrashing apologized Mr. Magee, 
And the next day he chopped down the musical tree." 

" I never supposed you had signs and symbols in 
the moon," observed Johnny. 


" Well, we have," replied Flowerbell, " and we have 
lots of them too, just as you have on the earth." 
Then turning to the company, he continued : " If an 
earth farmer sees a woodchuck sitting on a gate-post 
scratching himself behind the left ear with the right 
foot, it is a sign that there will be snow inside of three 
days and a half. And they have many other signs 
quite as quaint and singular. Would you," he con- 
tinued, pointing to the Roasted Pig, " mind explaining 
a few of the signs of the moon ?" 

"Of course not," responded the Roasted Pig. "To 
begin with, if you meet a three-legged rabbit waltzing 
in a potato - patch with a near - sighted partridge, it 
means that inside of a week there is going to be a 
shower of white cocoa-nut cakes. When you hear a 
soprano mud hen singing a love-song in an alto voice 
to a spectacled Guinea-pig with a rose-cold, it is a sure 
sign that there is going to be a green-cheese famine 
in the moon. When a white pig turns black and his 
black spots white, and he whistles impromptu airs 
that cause the beans to bake in their pods, it is a 
sign that the winter will be open if it is not shut. 
I hardly think, as the Philosophic Farmer would say, 
that there is anything more to be said on the sub- 

Just then the French Poodle that couldn't speak 
English heard some alien footsteps without, and com- 
menced barking as he stood with his fore-feet upon 
the library window-sill. They all looked out, and 
Johnny supposed he saw a number of skeletons out 
for a walk. Some had on whole suits, others just an 
overcoat, and some simply a coat and vest. He didn't 
think it anything wonderful that the French Poodle 
that couldn't speak English should bark so hard. But 


the skeletons paid no attention to it, continuing in 
their walk, though all were silent. 

" Who are those skeletons, anyway ?" asked Johnny. 

"They are not skeletons at all," replied Tumpty 
Turn the Rhymer ; " they are 
a lot of clothing - frames out 
for an airing principally to 
air the clothes and to ad- 
vertise the latest styles. Is 
there anything about it that sur- 
prises you ?" asked the rhymer, 
with a smile. 

" There is," Johnny replied. THE FKENCH POODLE - 
" It all surprises me." 

" Well," said Tumpty Turn, " wait until you see the 
latest bonnet display of the moon." 

" Here it comes now !" exclaimed the Roasted Pig, 
as he executed a graceful jig step. " Here it comes 

They all looked in the direction in which the Roasted 
Pig pointed, and saw a dim cloud. But as the cloud 
came nearer it lost its sombre character. It became 
a mixture of all colors. Here was a little pink, there 
a little blue, and again some yellow melting into green, 
and from the green into orange and ecru. Nearer 
and nearer it came, and the cloud seemed to separate 
into round objects, which in a little while appeared in 
their true character of bonnets. 

" If I had my gun here," said Johnny, " I could 
bring down a dozen." 

Nothing was said at this comment, and the bonnets 
slacked up in their flight, to be seen and enjoyed by 
the many women about the palace. They fluttered 
about in the most graceful circles, their flowers trem- 


bling in the air, and their ribbons streaming like so 
many kite tails, and their birds singing : " Who'll buy ? 
who'll buy ?" but all the time kept out of reach in the 
most tantalizing, tempting manner, it seemed to those 
who wanted them most. But with all their flowery 
charms they at length passed on. And no sooner had 
they vanished than there was a great clatter on the 
ground, and along came the latest styles of shoes on a 
gentle trot. It seemed funny to see the shoes bend 
at the insteps as they proceeded upon their business 
journey. The heavy shoes came down in a business- 
like way, the evening gaiters had an airy, frivolous 
manner, while the patent-leather pumps moved about 
in circles as though waltzing. It was a very pretty 
and novel sight, and it was greatly enjoyed by the on- 
lookers, but very much more so when the last pair, an 
honest pair of tramping-shoes, sang what we may not 
inappropriately call 


" May we wear for a very long time, 

May we never be checkered with holes, 
May we long know our leathery prime, 
And outwear at least three sets of soles. 

" May we not stiffly squeak as we go 

On our journey, but loose may we feel, 
And throughout our existence, oh ! oh ! 
May we never run down at the heel. 

"May our lives like a minuet flee, 

And unpaired never be our sad lot ; 
And alas ! oh, may one never be 

All worn out when the other is not." 

" Not at all bad for a pair of shoes," said Tumpty 


Turn the Rhymer, in a tone which, though patronizing, 
still had a flavor of professional envy in it. 

"Those," observed the Moon Prince, with rever- 
ence, "are not new shoes, and yet they will never be 
old. They originally belonged to a great moon poet, 
and like his fame, they cannot die. They are wander- 
ing about because there isn't a poet in the realm big 
enough to wear them." 

There might have T^een a further discussion on the 
subject of the divine art of poetry, but at that mo- 
ment an unknown voice was heard singing 


" There will be a grand ball to-night, to-night, 

The grandest the moon has seen, 
And again will our long-lost owl be white 
As the cheese of the moon is green. 

" All draped with the softest of plumes, of plumes, 

That the moon with silver soaks, 
He'll sit 'mid the richest of rich perfumes, 
While he gurgles with honest jokes. 

" He'll not be the lonely sad bird, sad bird, 

He is on the solemn earth ; 
He'll be just the jolliest ever heard, 
While he's coruscating with mirth." 

Then the French Poodle that couldn't speak Eng- 
lish said, "Quelle heure est-il?" 

" Why, it's almost eight !" they exclaimed, in cho. 
rus ; " and it is high time that we were getting ready 
for the Owl's ball." 


AT the appointed hour the ball-room was lighted by 
a miniature moon. This moon first appeared like the 
bud of a white rose, but when the hour for the ball to 
begin arrived, this pretty bud softly unfolded itself 
into a moon that flooded the room with a glory of 
pearly light. The music, which was soft and dreamy, 
came from the trumpets of the many flowers set about 
to beautify the room. The floor was like a sea of un- 
rippled moonlight. It looked as though it would be 
made perfect if some boat of pearl should idly float 
upon its surface, or a lily or two were tossed upon its 

Finally the huge silk curtain was held aside at the 
entrance, and in came the army of lead soldiers, march- 
ing just as they had been when seen in the Toy Gar- 
den. After they had marched around the room, they 
halted and stood in two long columns against one of 
the walls. 

Then entered the Noah's Ark, drawn by eight toy 
elephants, and behind the ark the animals proceeded 
with a martial solemnity that was very charming, and 
seldom seen in wooden animals. After them came all 
the tin animals, and then appeared the stuffed birds 
and the humming-tops and the checkers. Then came 
the invited guests, the rear being brought up by the 
Philosophic Farmer. Tumpty Turn the Rhymer and 


the Roasted Pig, Flowerbell, and Johnny were together, 
and Roseflake was in a silver boat that was drawn 
through the pearly air by twenty graceful swans. 

The King sat on a throne at one end of the room, 
and at that spot persons who desired the honor were 
presented to him. He was greatly impressed with the 
Roasted Pig when he noticed the graceful manner in 
which he danced with Roseflake. In fact, every one 
envied the Roasted Pig the high honor he was en- 

" Why, it seems preposterous," remarked Silver- 
smith the Tenth, " that a Roasted Pig should have the 
manner of a Prime-minister. I never heard of such 
a thing before, and I don't believe its parallel is to be 
found in the whole range of the fairy literature of the 

Having made such an impression, Flowerbell con- 
sidered it his duty to present the Roasted Pig, that he 
might enjoy the benefit of the King's admiration. 

" To be sure, I am nothing but a simple, unassum- 
ing Roasted Pig," he said, in reply to the King's com- 

" I beg to differ with you, Sir Roasted," said the 
King, familiarly. " You are such a wonderful creation 
that I am going to create you Agricultural Minister." 

The poor Roasted Pig was temporarily delighted, 
and blushed to the roots of his bristles. The room 
seemed to swim, so that he could hardly realize where 
he was. 

" Who is this curious creature ?" asked the King. 

" This man," said the Roasted Pig now Sir Roasted 
" is the Philosophic Farmer, who never speaks when 
he has nothing to say." 

Silversmith the Tenth was delighted, and anticipated 


the suggestion of the Moon Prince by creating him a 
Prime-minister on the spot. 

" The present Prime-minister must take your place 
upon the farm, and ascertain for me if the tilling of 
the soil is conducive 10 the philosophic temperament." 

Then the King touched them, and the robes of the 
Prime- minister were upon the Philosophic Farmer, 
while the patched garments of the latter appeared in 
all their variegated picturesqueness upon the Prime- 
minister, who looked daggers, or rather pitchforks, at 
the newly - created diplomat, who appeared wise, but 
said nothing. 

" I would dance in my ineffable joy," murmured 
the King, " upon finding so valuable a servant ; but 
as I cannot dance with my crown on, because of its 
unseemly wobbling all over my head and down on my 
eyes, I would have you wear it." So he clapped his 
sparkling crown upon the head of the Philosophic 
Farmer, and became the liveliest dancer in the room. 
In fact, his long flowing cloak seemed in the way of 
his feet as he skipped and pirouetted about. " I tell 
you," said Silversmith the Tenth, "I never enjoyed 
myself so much before." 

"All because the crown was on another's head," 
remarked the Philosophic Farmer, offering it back. 
" Take it ; it has given me a headache." 

The King was greatly pleased until the Philosophic 
Farmer said, in a supplicating tone : 

" "Will not you have mercy on Sir Roasted and my- 
self, and restore us to our original positions on the 
farm ? We can only be happy and independent there ; 
and I am sure your old Prime-minister will be as un- 
happy there as we shall be here." 

" Please grant our simple request, good Silversmith. 



I know nothing of theoretical farming, and am there- 
fore unfit for the position of Agricultural Minister. 

" Oh, I am the pork, pork, pork, 
But where are my beans, beans, beans?" 

wept the Roasted Pig, bitterly. 

" You are altogether too valuable here to waste your 
time on a bean farm," replied the King. 

" Suppose," said the Philosophic Farmer, " that 1 
change my tactics, and go right on talking by the 
hour when I really have nothing to say, then what ?" 



" Then I will turn you into a donkey," replied the 
King, with just a tinge of feeling, " and have you 
driven uphill all day before a plough ; that's what !" 

The Philosophic Farmer thought it best to offer no 
further suggestions, lest the King put his terrible 
threat into execution, but to abandon his dream of 
happiness, and to accept with as good grace as pos- 
sible the, to him, terrible alternative of remaining 
Prime-minister. But it made him very sore, as it did 
the Roasted Pig. They stood apart, and spoke loving- 
ly of the humble home in which they had been so 
happy, and of the waving hills and meadows, and 
thought painfully of the unlucky day when they met 
the Moon Prince and Johnny. 

" If we had had but the forethought to conceal our 
virtues and good qualities, we should still be happy," 
moaned the Philosophic Farmer, with perhaps a flavor 
of conceit. " But I, in saying too little, alas ! said 
too much ; while you, with your graceful manners and 
flowery compliments, are sadly undone." 

" Oh, look here !" exclaimed the King, with a laugh. 

They all looked ; and there stood the French Poodle 
that could understand but not speak English. He had 
on a white satin swallow-tail that looked as though 
made of moonlight, a pair of dainty high-heeled slip- 
pers, and a delicate pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. 

" Why do you wear spectacles ?" inquired Tumpty 
Turn the Rhymer. 

"Je porte des lunettes parce que fai la vue mauvaise" 
replied the French Poodle, with a courtly bow. 

This polite reply threw Silversmith into such con- 
vulsions of laughter that he had to hold his crown on 
with his hands, as he would a straw-hat in a high wind. 

" Don't you think it would be a favorable time to 


ask the King to send us back to our dearly beloved 
farm, now that he shakes with the laughter of inno- 
cent joy ?" inquired the Roasted Pig. 

" It would not !" exclaimed Flowerbell, who had 
just been dancing with Roseflake. " It would have 
the effect of throwing him into a towering rage, and 
there is no telling what he might not do. Remember 
that I, his son and heir, was turned into a squirrel for 
months because I rifled a cake of its nuts, and then 
fancy what he would do with an Agricultural Minis- 
ter, for instance." 

They at once appreciated the sagacity of the Moon 
Prince's remarks, and decided to make the best of the 
unpleasant situation. But they were not left in such 
a state of quietude as to be able to spend much time 
in reflection. The bugles of the flowers discoursed a 
lively march, and from the cheering outside it was 
evident that the Owl was approaching. The stuffed 
birds tried to flutter with enthusiasm, several of the 
lead soldiers twisted their necks out of shape in attempt- 
ing to cheer, and the dancing-pumps couldn't stand still. 

The King was delirious with joy, Tumpty Turn was 
bubbling with rhyme, and the little moon that lit the 
room had an owl's face in it. Suddenly the Owl ap- 
peared, amid a tumult of excitement. It was one 
mass of the whitest, softest feathers, some of which 
trailed in the air like moon-beams. The long train 
feathers were held up by other birds birds-in-waiting 
and the owl was as happy as could be. Having 
reached the upper end of the room, it came dancing 
down towards the King in the liveliest manner, and 
the music had a hard time in accompanying the move- 
ments of its feet. 

" You are no longer a solemn bird," said the King, 


affectionately. "You are now the merry bird that 
you were originally. Is not this an improvement on 
roosting in a belfry ?" 

" Very much," replied the Owl, " when you have a 
keen sense of humor, such as I now have. My head 
used to almost split when the man below played chimes 
on the bell. The chimes were lovely enough in them- 
selves, but the man was so unskilful that he made 
them as hideous as himself by missing a note occa- 
sionally and playing out of time. I used to solace 
myself by working my imagination until I fancied I 
was in a boiler factory. Are you fond of chimes?" 

" When artistically rendered," replied the King. 
" But have you heard anything funny lately ?" 

"Yes," replied the owl; "I just heard a chimney- 
sweep come to the back door and complain of thirst." 

" What is there funny in that?" demanded the King. 

" Nothing. The fun was in my suggestion, if you 
will pardon my seeming vanity, that he be given a 
large drink of washing-soda." 

The King humbly apologized for having criticised 
the Owl's joke before the climax, and promised never 
to be guilty of such a rudeness again. 

" As I was walking in the garden this morning I 
heard a man singing a very funny song. It went 
something like this : 

' When the cotton's softly growing on the sheep.' " 

" What was the rest of it ?" asked the King, after 
the Owl had paused. 

" I don't know," replied the Owl, " for the singer 
suddenly stopped singing and commenced whistling." 

"Can you supply the rest of that song, Tumpty 
Turn ?" 


" Was there an allusion to an elephant with vege- 
table ivory tusks ?" asked the Rhymer. 

" How should I know," replied the Owl, sarcastically, 
"when the singer began the whistling? Perhaps he 
whistled something about an elephant with vegetable 
ivory tusks, but not understanding whistling, I couldn't 
say for certain." 

"What kind of a rhymer are you, anyhow?" de- 
manded the King. " You are employed to keep track 
of all the moon songs, and your salary is overdrawn 
into the bargain. Would you like to be turned into 
a small green tree, and have a flock of cat-birds sing 
the same song on your branches all day and all night 
long for, say, ten or twelve years?" 

" I would not, sire," responded the rhymer, trem- 
bling like a short-haired dog on a cold gray day. 

"Then you must mend your ways. It is nothing 
but the joyfulness of this festive occasion that pre- 
vents my making you wish you never were born. I 
am very sorry that I have heard the beginning of this 
song, for I shall always suffer to know the rest. Just 
think of such an opening : 

" ' When the cotton's softly growing on the sheep !' 

Please say something to make me forget it," said the- 
King, in despair. 

"All right," murmured the Roasted Pig, wishing to 
help the poor rhymer out of a bad scrape. So, turn- 
ing to the Owl, he continued, " Do you find it pleas- 
anter feeling funny than sad ?" 

" That is a very strange question," replied the Owl. 
" As a rule, it is pleasanter to feel funny than sad." 

" But you cannot take anything seriously now, can 


"Nothing," replied the Owl, with a laugh ; " not even 
a dose of medicine." 

The King laughed with great feeling. 

Then an attendant stepped up and inquired, " Have 
you forgotten it yet ?" 

"Forgotten what?" asked the King, fumbling in 
his pockets. 

" Why, that lyric about the cotton softly growing 
on the sheep ?" 

" There, you have gone and reminded me of it again 
refreshed my memory on the subject, if I may so 
put it and you shall suffer for it !" 

So the King turned him into a bass drum with a 
human sense of feeling, and ordered him to be pounded 
at every hour of the day, to tell the time, for six years. 

" When a subject reminds me of a thing that I have 
been struggling for five minutes to forget, and puts 
me to all the trouble of forgetting it over again, he 
must be made an example of. I must only be remind- 
ed of things that I don't want to forget such as um- 

Here the officious subject who had been turned into 
a drum rolled down the steps from the platform upon 
which he had been standing. The King ordered the 
drum to be brought back and tightened until it should 
almost burst. He smiled pleasantly when he fancied 
the pain the poor drum was suffering, and then order- 
ed the man who was to strike the hours on it to wax 
absent-minded now and then, and astonish the moon 
with the intelligence of the arrival of eighty-six o'clock, 
on pain of being turned into a foot-ball. 

"Oh, if I were only back on the old bean -hill!" 
mused the Philosophic Farmer, or Prime-minister. 

" Palaces may be very fine," thought the Roasted 


Pig, or, rather, Sir Roasted Pig, the Agricultural Minis- 
ter, " but if comfort, peace, and happiness go to make 
life enjoyable, then give me every time the humble 
cabin of the Philosophic Farmer, who never opens his 
mouth when he has nothing to say except when eating." 

" Would you like to hear a royal poem, connected 
with a royal personage?" asked Tumpty Turn the 
Rhymer, wishing to distract the King's attention, and 
save themselves from probable disaster. 

"We would we would !" exclaimed the King. 

" One day," began Tumpty Turn the Rhymer, "good 
old King Pearlbeam the Eighty-ninth met Sir Ava- 
ricious, the greediest man in the moon. Pearlbeam 
was the most sensitive King that ever sat upon the 
moon throne, and when Sir Avaricious said ' between 
you and I,' instead of ' between you and me,' the 
King was so aggravated and upset that he couldn't 
eat mushrooms for three days. But perhaps I am in- 
terfering with your enjoyment of the Owl's ball ?" 

" Not a bit," said the King ; " we enjoy the ball all 
the more for the pleasant diversion of your poems." 

" Thanks, sire !" exclaimed the happy rhymer ; " I 
will begin at once with 


" One time Sir Avaricious 

A strange adventure had 
Whether a thing was woful, 

Or whether it was glad, 
He couldn't tell, which often 

Made him extremely sad. 

" One day the King was happy, 
And feeling at his best, 


When for Sir Avaricious 
He dropped a ' merry jest,' 

And on the same his judgment 
Politely did request. 

"His subject, sorely puzzled, 
Out of his wonder woke, 
And then in trembling language 
Unto the monarch spoke : 

' Was it a pearl of wisdom, 
Or was it but a joke? 

" ' If 'twas a pearl of wisdom, 

My praise shall be as cheers; 

If 'twas a comic sally, 
My laugh shall split your oars ; 

If 'twas a fact heart-rending, 
My heart shall move to tears.' 

"Then waved the angry monarch 
His sceptre thin and frail, 

As the perturbed tiger 
Lashes his brindled tail 

When piqued by something or other 
O'er which he can't prevail. 

" He rent him not asunder, 
He put not out his eyes, 

But in the gentlest manner, 
Sans ' ifs,' sans ' buts,' sans ' whys,' 

He led Sir Avaricious, 
Greatly to his suprise, 

" Into a bright green valley, 
To a deep cave of gold, 
Saying 'The door but open, 
And riches have untold ; 
There are as many keys as 
The largest ring will hold.' 


" As in the Christmas window 

Poor ragged children look 

At painted pasteboard camel 

And pretty picture-book, 
The rich cave door this mortal 
Into his vision took. 

"First one key, then another, 

Sir Avaricious tried, 
But ne'er the one discovered 

That this great want supplied 
There being several thousand, 
He naturally sighed. 

"After one key proved useless 
It mingled with the mass; 
He never found the right one, 

Which did his soul harass, 

With many a woful ' Gracious !' 

And many a sore ' Alas !' 

" 'Twas thus he vainly struggled 

For many a night and day, 
Until his limbs grew weary, 

And all his hair was gray ; 
But seeing, through the key-hole, 

The gold, his heart was gay. 

" The door was never opened, 

And all because the King 
Made him an object-lesson 

Prime wisdom wide to fling 
He never put the right key 

At all upon the ring. 

" The whole moon shook with laughter 

At Pearlbeam's funny deed, 
Which cured Sir Avaricious 

Of his exceeding greed, 
And a fine sense of humor 

Gave him with lightning speed." 


" CHARMING," said the King " charming, and I shall 
be only too happy to forgive you for not being able to 
repeat the poem of the cotton softly growing on the 

" But don't you think King Pearlbeam displayed 
great wisdom in curing Sir Avaricious by laughter, in- 
stead of by a cruel vengeance ?" 

" I am not prepared to say on such short notice," re- 
plied the King. " It is all well enough for you who 
are not a King to belittle the practice of torture upon 
those deserving it, but my experience is that it is a 
very satisfactory diversion, especially on a dull day 
when there is nothing else in the form of excitement 
to be had. But to show you that I am not totally de- 
praved in my tyranny, I shall now bring this chair 
back to its original self." 

The chair, when touched, jumped into the air, and 
came down a thick-set man with a slight Spanish ac- 

" Thank you very much," exclaimed the happy mor- 

" Do you know why I turned this baker into a 
chair ?" asked the King. 

" No," they replied in chorus. 

" Because one day he made a caricature of me in 
gingerbread, and asked me if I didn't think it lifelike." 



Here the French Poodle that couldn't speak English 
came whining to the King. It seems that he was 
lying on the chair asleep when, in being turned back 
into a baker, the latter tossed him into the air and 
hurt his feelings. 

" Why don't you bite him ?" laughed the Librarian. 

" II faut aimer tout le monde meme nos ennemis /" 
replied the Poodle, with a fine sense of what, under 
the circumstances, might 
be called heroic kindness 
and consideration. 

At this time a queer lit- 
tle old woman, known as 
the Grandmother of Pearl, 
entered the ball-room, and 
commenced watering the 
flower bugles to freshen 
them and enable them to 
discourse lively music, as 
they were beginning to 
wilt. After she had de- 
parted, Johnny was great- 
ly astonished at seeing 
a large table come up 
through the floor. It was 
covered with every imag- 
inable dainty, and it had 

not been in sight a great while before it was sur- 
rounded by a most appreciative body of delighted 

The great cakes had doors in their sides, which 
swung open, and out ran a lot of little men bearing 
the mottoes and bonbons they contained to every part 
of the table. After they had been distributed, the 



little men turned into deliciously cooked birds, and 
lay down on the plates to be eaten. Another cake, 
the largest of the lot, turned into a ring that looked 
like a rainbow. It floated about in the air as though 
suspended. Into this ring flew the Owl, and perched 
upon its lower side, and swung happily to and fro all 
over the room, guiding it gently with its great white 
plumes, until it seemed to be swimming on the moon- 
light. The King ate ravenously of the imaginary sheep 
and moon bears, off plates that in reality were empty, 
while the French Poodle ate nothing but bonbons, and 
the Moon Prince carefully avoided anything resem- 
bling nut-cake. Johnny thought it the loveliest party 
he ever attended, and secretly wished his little sister 
there to enjoy it with him. The King was as happy 
as the Librarian, and the Librarian was as happy as a 
King as he skipped nimbly about. The Roasted Pig 
eyed the vegetables with' the glance of love peculiar to 
an agricultural minister, and the Philosophic Farmer 
looked on quietly, but uttered not a word. 

Finally the Librarian gave the table a peculiar magic 
touch, and it commenced to run around the room, leav- 
ing the guests in their chairs gazing upon all in mute 

" Be not at all disconcerted," said the King, greatly 
pleased at the unexpected pleasure of a joke ; " the 
table is only running around to warm the edibles a 

" Laugh, laugh !" said Tumpty Turn, " or the King 
will be very angry. Remember the punishment of Sir 

They thereupon began to laugh as hard as possible, 
even those who did not hear what the King had said. 
This greatly pleased the monarch, and put him in suet 


a splendid humor that he became absent-minded, and 
tossed a tea-biscuit in the air, catching it in his teeth 
as it descended, and then ordered a fresh stock of 
Christmas-trees to be planted in the Toy Garden, to 
bear twelve crops of toys every year. 

This royal order greatly pleased Roseflake's little 
brothers and sisters, and struck Johnny as being a 
poetically beautiful idea. By this time the table had 
returned, and was standing quietly in its accustomed 
place, when the King suddenly began to run, under 
the impression that the birds he had been eating were 
trying to pluck out his eyes. Out of the room he ran 
pursued by every one, and the table also. When he 
looked through his fingers and saw the table, he 

" Oh, the birds I have eaten would pluck out mine 
eyes !" 

" How can they pluck out your eyes if you have 
eaten them ?" asked the Philosophic Farmer. 

" Why, of course they couldn't !" acknowledged the 
King, with a foolish look. 

" Will you kindly grant us the privilege of laughing 
at you without disastrous results to ourselves ?" 

" It is a good joke, .and should therefore be en- 
joyed, and the only way to enjoy a joke is to laugh 

They all laughed, including the King, who joined 
in to satisfy them that a joke at his expense was quite 
as delightful as one at another's. 

" When do we go to Molasses River on that picnic 
to be given in Johnny's honor ?" sang the Owl, floating 
about in its beautiful ring, with its soft white plumes 
trailing in the moonlight. 

"To-morrow, at 8.37, if possible," said the King. 


" And now I think we had better unmoon the room 
and retire for the night." 

So the little moon that lighted the room descended, 
and was put between two tin pie-plates, and secreted in 
a drawer, the French Poodle baying it as it was being 
wrapped up. All the wooden animals, lead soldiers, 
stuffed birds, dancing-pumps, and clothing-frames fol- 
lowed ; for, of course, all Moonland was light enough 
for them to find their way. And in less than half an 
hour after the King had brought the Owl's ball to a 
close the palace was wrapt in silence, and all was as 
serene and lovely as a breezy midsummer night. 

The order of Silversmith the Tenth to have the Cin- 
derella coaches at the palace door at 8.37 was obeyed 
to the letter, or rather to the figure. 

When Sir Roasted Pig, the Agricultural Minister, ob- 
served the pumpkins being turned into coaches, he was 
as dumfounded as was the Philosophic Farmer, who 
thought that all there was to be said on the subject 
was simply, " Well !" 

As the coaches came up, the people who were going 
to the picnic all became small enough to occupy them, 
just as Johnny had when he took his first drive with 
his little friend and playmate 4 the Moon Prince. 

It was a most charming drive to the Molasses River, 
and the hour it occupied seemed little more than ten 
minutes. The King cracked jokes with every one, and 
the French Poodle barked as he looked out of the coach 
window at the wonders along the way. 

Before they had proceeded a great distance they 
saw a funny-looking old fellow sitting under a tree by 
the way, singing. He seemed to be in a very happy 
mood as he swung his arms about and kicked his feet 
as though dancing in the air. 


" There he is now. I wonder if he has them 
mended yet ?" asked the Librarian, with a smile of 


" There is who ?" asked the King. " And what do 
you wonder if he has mended yet ?" 

" That's the man that mends the story manikins," 
replied the Librarian ; " and I am wondering if he has 
the ' Adopted Nephew of the Sage-green Elephant with 
the Glass Eye ' done ?" 

" Hi, there, my good fellow !" shouted the King ; 
" have you the ' Adopted Nephew of the Sage-green 
Elephant with the Glass Eye ' finished yet ?" 

" Not quite," replied the Mender of the .Story-man- 
ikins. " He had his main - spring broken in pro- 
nouncing the word pterodactyl, which word has since 
been eliminated from the story. I wish to keep the 
Story -manikin a day or two longer to see how he 

" You have not tampered with the story itself ?" 

" The story is intact from the ' Once upon a time ' 
to the final syllable." 

" The reason I speak on the subject," said the King, 
" is that your great-grandfather, who was also a Story- 
Manikin Mender, once purloined a story from a man- 
ikin, and by so doing broke the set. Since that time 
we have only the title, and it is impossible to replace 
the narrative." 

" How so ?" asked the Manikin Mender. 

" Because its title, ' Sickle Pickle,' gives no idea 
upon which to base a story. Now, had it been called 
'The Apotheosis of the Apothecary,' it would have 
been possible to invent a new story." 

" I can only say," remarked the Story - Manikin 
Mender, " that you will find the story intact in every 


manikin returned to your Librarian by me. But what 
became of my great-grandfather ?" 

" Your great-grandfather," continued the King, " has 
been missing since that particular time, and now that 
lie has been missing some eighty years, it does not 
strike me as very likely that he will ever gladden us 
with the light of his countenance again." 

" It is extremely sad," murmured the Story-manikin 
Mender ; " but, to change the subject, are you now en 
route for Molasses River ?" 

" We are." 

" Then I would that you would call upon me in my 
humble abode. I would show you a new invention of 
mine a story kettle, a song kettle, and a dance 

The King promised to call and hear the kettle tell 
stories, after which he delightedly introduced the 
Roasted Pig and the Philosophic Farmer. 

" Here," said the Story-manikin Mender, with a hon- 
eyed smile, " is the heroic legend of the ' Sorghum and 
the Tantamount'; the Librarian might as well take it 
along. The ' Adopted Nephew of the Sage-green Ele- 
phant with the Glass Eye ' will be sent home to-mor- 
row, and ' The Barber and the Bald Eagle ' early next 

He bowed and withdrew, and the pretty little Cin- 
derella coach rolled on. 

" See if all the verses are in that poem," commanded 
the King. " I love that Molasses River poem, and 
wouldn't lose a verse of it for the moon." 

The Librarian, having some bronchial trouble, 
whispered that he would count on his fingers, and 
when the magic button was touched, the manikin 
began : 



" ' We've got to have a river King,' 

The fairies said one day. 
' The Sorghum would be dignified 

And solemn in his sway, 
But then the agile Tantamount 

Would jolly be and gay.' 

" The Sorghum thought himself the one 

To rule the syrup fount, 
He thought his rival as a King 

Would be of no account. 
' Oh, I'm the one the King to be,' 
Argued the Tantamount. 

" The feeling soon was running high, 

And gained on all a hold, 
Until they met one day, and soon 

Hard things each other told 
Sarcastic was the Tantamount ; 

The Sorghum haughty, cold. 

" ' Come on !' the Tantamount exclaimed. 

' All right !' the Sorghum said. 
They grappled and they madly fought 

Until the day was sped, 
Then took a needed recess, for 

'Twas time to go to bed. 

" Upon the morrow lookers-on 

A pretty combat saw ; 
The Tantamount most neatly worked 

Away with tooth and claw, 
Until the Sorghum held him down 

Beneath his massive paw. 

" ' How feel you now ?' the Sorghum asked. 
The Tantamount to speak 


Refused, but with a hind-foot blow 
The Sorghum caused to seek 

The earth, which must have given him 
An earache for a week. 

" The Sorghum at the Tantamount 

Then made an awful roar, 
And on the sugar banks they fell, 

And, rolling o'er and o'er, 
Fought as Sorghum and Tantamount 
Had never fought before. 

"But neither an advantage gained 
When they had fought full half 

A day, which to the patient judge 
A brindled old Riffraff 

Seemed so absurd that all the three 
Joined in a merry laugh. 

" The Sorghum then was made the King, 

To ride the syrup seas ; 
The Tantamount, his noble foe 

So valorous, to please, 
Was then and there created King, 

To rule the moon's green cheese. 

" Unto this day the Sorghum's throne 

Is on the river flats, 
And still the supple Tantamount 

The veiy best of cats, 
Keeps ever from the lily moon's 

Green cheese the mice and rats." 

" That's right," said the Librarian, " ten." 

" What's right ? Ten what ?" asked the King. 

" I mean," said the Librarian, " that the poem is in- 
tact, because it has ten verses, and not a stanza is 

"Excuse me," replied the King, as he wiped the 


perspiration from the inside of his crown, " but in my 
great hilarity I forgot that I asked you to count. Now 
count your fingers to see if you have ten, that I may 
be certain there is not a verse missing." 

The poor Librarian counted his fingers seven times 
to see that they were all there, and then replied, " Yes ; 

The King smiled. 

"But the movement was not properly rendered," 
said the Librarian, as though communing with him- 
self. " A musical movement rendered in an unmusical 
manner is not " 

"Not what?" exclaimed the King. "Not what? 
Not what ?" 

" Not what it should be," moaned the frightened 
Librarian. " I was about to say " 

" To say what ?" broke in the King. " To say 
what ? To say what ?" 

" That the song manikin did not render the ' Ro- 
maunt of the Sorghum and the Tantamount ' properly, 
owing probably to the fact that, through having been 
recently repaired, he is a little stiff in the jaw, and re- 
quires oiling." 

" Then why didn't you say it?" demanded the King. 

" Because I could not get a chance. I simply want- 
ed to apologize for the song manikin." 

" Now that you have had the chance and taken ad- 
vantage of it, do you feel that you have performed a 
noble duty that makes you feel better ?" 

" I do," replied the Librarian, who really didn't 
know whether he did or not. 

" Then we all congratulate you upon the rapturous 
feeling that now thrills your being. But don't forget 
to oil the song manikin upon your return." 


" It shall not be neglected." 

"And don't allow him to chant the historical 
-battle of the Sorghum and the Tantamount until he 
has been properly oiled. I trust his throat is not 

Upon the assurance of the Librarian that the song 
manikin was in perfect condition, barring the requisite 
oiling, the King acted as though he felt his reign to 
be a great success. 

By this time they had reached that portion of the 
moon that is very sugary. 

The hubs of the Cinderella coaches in which they 
were being driven touched the fine powdered white 
sugar that was occasionally wafted by the wind in a 
fine silvery dust. 

"These spots upon the moon," observed Tumpty 
Turn the Rhymer, " are the footprints of the Sorghum. 
He has evidently been around here looking after his 
saccharine interests. And that great impression 
yonder was made by him when he lay down and lost 
himself in the aromatic mazes of a pleasant gumdrop 

" What kind of a person is this Mr. Sorghum ?" 
asked Johnny. 

" Not Mr. Sorghum," protested the King, pleasant- 
ly ; " just plain Sorghum. He is a mass of good nat- 
ure when not annoyed. But you shall shortly see 
him, and be able to judge for yourself. Do you notice 
a difference in the air ?" 

" I do," said Johnny. 

" This is sugar air from Sugar Sea, into which Mo- 
lasses River empties." 

"I trust it is not very injurious to the teeth," said 


" It is not. But you shall see all you shall see 
all," exclaimed the King. 

And a few minutes later the Cinderella coaches 
drew up on the banks of the river, and were turned 
back into pumpkins until they should again be 

As they all walked along the golden sugar shore of 
Molasses River, leaving the coaches behind shining as 
only pumpkins can shine, Johnny's feet sank into the 
sugar almost to his knees, and yet he did not tire. On 
his remarking this he was informed that no one could 
become weary or fatigued upon those mellifluous banks. 
He was dwelling upon the sweetness of such a spot for 
a play-ground, when the King said : 

" Where there is no fatigue there can be no rest. 
That is the reason the Sorghum, even when he lies 
down, does not sleep, but is always lively and on the 
alert for his interests." 

The King would no doubt have said more, but their 
attention was attracted by these words : 

" ' White sugar ' rhymes with ' light sugar ' all right, 
and so does ' maple sugar ' with ' staple sugar.' Now, 
I might begin with, 

White sugar, 

Maple sugar, 
Light sugar, 

Staple sugar, 


Tumpty tumpty turn. 

But, no, I will give it up at least for to-day." 

" He was not mentioning my name," explained 


Turapty Turn. " He was simply trying to do the su- 
gar Iliad, as he has been trying for years." 

" Who is he, anyhow ?" asked Johnny, with an ex- 
pression of the most earnest curiosity. 

" It's no less a creature than the Sorghum," ex- 
claimed the rhymer, " and you shall see him directly." 

They quickened their steps up the river, whose deep 
golden tide swept sluggishly along. There were the 
pancakes floating like lily-pads, just as the Moon Prince 
had told Johnny when they were on their way to the 
great silver planet. 

But they soon forgot the river when they turned a 
bend and came in contact with the sugar king, Sor- 
ghum. He was a murky, mouse-colored creature, very 
clumsy, very stout, and perfectly hairless. His skin 
glistened, and he could scarcely open his eyes. The 
smile that illuminated his face illuminated his entire 
body ; he was simply transfigured into one great smile. 
He was counting his claws, probably to perfect the 
verse he was making as to feet, for he continued, in a 
measured whisper : 

" White sugar, 

Maple sugar, 
Light sugar, 

Staple sugar, 

Tumpty tumpty turn. 

That seems to be as far as I can get, but as far as it 
goes it is simply splendid." 

He then caught sight of King Silversmith and his 
royal party, and fairly danced with joy in the wildest, 
maddest circles. 


They were all very glad to see him, especially the 

"This is the first owl that has been in the moon 
since the reign of Moonshine the Seventh. You know 
the story of the banishment of the owl ?" said Flower- 

" I have read it in Mooney's J/bow," replied the Sor- 

He then gave Johnny permission to pick as many 
chocolate cream-drops as he wanted ; and as they were 
growing all around like blackberries, it did not take 
Flowerbell's little playmate long to satisfy his appetite. 

" You seem to be a very sweet boy," observed the 

" Thank you very much ; but would you be offended 
if I should ask you a question ?' 

" Not at all not at all," replied the Sugar King. 

" I notice that you smile all over. Now, when you 
laugh do you laugh all over?" 

" I do. I laugh from head to foot. One day I got 
laughing so that I burst one of my boots." 

" Would you mind telling us what made you laugh 
so violently ?" 

" Certainly not," responded the Sorghum. " I was 
one day walking over yonder in the loaf-sugar, when I 
heard some one singing a very funny thing. It began 
like this, if I remember rightly, 

" ' When the cotton's softly growing on the sheep.' " 

"That's it that's it," roared King Silversmith 
"that's it that's it!" and he became helpless with 

" Your appreciation is a delicate compliment," said 


the Sorghum, "inasmuch as it is an indorsement of 
my own." 

" I think I've got it I think I've got it !" exclaimed 
Silversmith, in a delirium of ecstasy. 

" Got what ?" asked the Sorghum. 

" The song." 

" What song ?" demanded the Sugar King. 

" Why, the song about the cotton softly growing on 
the sheep." 

" Where did you get it ?" asked the Sugar King. 

" I didn't get it at all," replied Silversmith. 

" Then why did you just say you thought you got 

"Did I just say that?" 

" Certainly that's what you said," protested the Sor- 

" I will explain myself," laughed the King of the 
Moon. " I once heard that line, only to become broken- 
hearted at not being able to secure the rest of the song. 
In vain have I tried to possess myself of that master- 
piece of nonsense, that monument of fun, that must be 
one of perennial beauty. And when I heard you warble 
the magic syllables a burden fell from my life and a 
little bird sang in my heart, for I concluded that you 
knew the song to the end." 

" Would that I did !" moaned the Sorghum " would 
that I did ! Alas, I only know the one matchless line ! 
When that was uttered the singer began to whistle ; 
and as I don't understand whistling, and the singer 
suddenly disappeared, of course it was impossible for 
me to do anything in the premises." 

Here the Sorghum burst into tears and wept copi- 
ously. It was the first time the King, or any of the 
party, for that matter, had ever seen a creature weep 


all over. He (the Sorghum) was like a thunder-cloud 
that shows not a peaceful, happy spot, and his great 
grief won for him the sympathy of Silversmith, and 
caused that monarch to assume a sunny, forgiving 
mien. After the Sorghum's lamentation had subsided 
a laughing arc surrounded him like an iris after a storm, 
and made him as happy as a Sugar King. 

It was a laugh that could be seen and felt but not 
heard, and every one that saw it was affected by its 
potent spell ; and they laughed so hard that they 
rolled helplessly about on the sugar sward. It was in- 
deed a funny sight to see the King hang his crown on 
the branch of a tree that it might not be dented, while 
he rolled about in a state of bubbling merriment. 

Suddenly they all stopped, for the laughter arc had 
disappeared, and there they all sat brushing the sugar 
off their clothing. The Roasted Pig lost his eye- 
glasses, but finally discovered that the Philosophic 
Farmer had picked them up during the rumpus, as he 
was too serious to be affected by the Sorghum's arc of 


" Now whither are you all wending and what are 
you all about to do ?" inquired the Sorghum. 

"We are all going on a rambling picnic on Molasses 
River. My son having been unsquirrelled " 

"Unwhat?" asked the Sorghum, in a tone that 
showed he suspected he was being chaffed. 

"Unsquirrelled," repeated the King, solemnly. 
" When I gave a party not a great while ago in Rose- 
flake's honor, Flowerbell purloined all the nuts from 
the cake that was to decide the marital destiny of the 
sweet little Princess. Then I turned him into a 
squirrel and sent him to the earth that he might enjoy 
nuts to his heart's content. If I have not been misin- 


formed, he will not banker after nuts for some time 
to come. When he returned he brought with him a 
charming little playmate and the great white Owl " 

" Don't ask me if I remember the story of how the 
Owl tried to sell Moonshine the Seventh the curling- 
fluid," laughed the Sorghum. " I know it well from 
beginning to end." 

" Well," continued the King, pretending not to no- 
tice the interruption, which really pleased him, " the 
Owl is back, and we are now showing it and Johnny 
what are presumably to them the wonders of the 
moon. In other words, we are taking a ramble, which 
we call a picnic only in the sense that it is a tour of 
pleasure. And now, good Sorghum, wilt accompany 
us ?" 

" With pleasure," replied the Sugar King, jumping 
nimbly from the ground, kicking his boots fifty feet 
in the air, and catching them on his feet as they 

So they walked along Molasses River, and watched 
its sinuous currents and enjoyed its lovely scenery. 
There were also molasses rapids and molasses falls, 
and when the molasses boiled over great sugar rocks 
here and there it seemed to be lashing itself into a fury 
of molasses candy. Every lily was a white cocoa-nut 
cake, and the pads being pancakes, as mentioned in 
the poem, reminded Johnny of the crisp, cold winter 
mornings that made sausage meat an epicurean delight. 

" What huge dewdrops !" said Johnny. 

" Dewdrops ! dewdrops !" repeated the Sorghum, 
with a laugh. " They're gumdrops, my boy gumdrops 
that ever gem these lovely sugar flowers. But whither 
wend we ?" 

Johnny was disappointed that he was not invited to 


help himself to the guradrops, but attributed it more to 
the Sorghum's excitement than to a lack of etiquette. 

" We are now going to the cabin of the queer little 
Manikin-mender, who has invented a song, dance, and 
story kettle." 

" Is not it time for me to say something ?" asked the 
Roasted Pig. 

" It is, Sir Roasted, it is," replied the King. 

" Then what time is it ?" 

"Dix heuresf" replied the French Poodle that 
couldn't speak English. 

So they all hurried on, and, after a short, brisk walk 
were at the tumble-down abode of the queer little Man- 

" What ho there within !" shouted the King, as he 
rapped upon the door with the butt of his sceptre. 

" What ho there, good fellow !" shouted the Sor- 
ghum, as the shining head of the queer little Manikin- 
mender popped out of the window and replied : 

"Good -morrow, good -morrow! What wouldst 
thou ?" 

" We understand that thou hast a merry song, dance, 
and story kettle ?" said the Moon King. 

" Aye, marry that have I," replied the queer little 
Manikin -mender, with a proud professional smile. 
" Wouldst hear them discourse ?" 

" That would we," replied the Sorghum. 

" Hast finished mending the ' Adopted Nephew of 
the Sage-green Elephant with the Glass Eye ?' " asked 
the Librarian. 

" It has just been sent to the palace," replied the 
queer little Manikin-mender, who now recognized the 
party, and, holding three kettles up to view, continued, 
u This is Song, this is Story, this is Dance." 



"A plague on me if I don't fancy this fellow a pur- 
veyor of spells !" said the Roasted Pig. " What can 
he mean by ' this is Song, this is Story, this is Dance.' " 

" That thou mayst not marvel at what strikest thee 
as a riddle, I will unravel for thee the seeming mystery. 
This kettle plays music that causes thee to dance in 


spite of thyself, this one sings a song that makes thee 
laugh in spite of thyself, and this one tells a story that 
interests thee in spite of thyself." 

They all filed into the odd-looking cabin, and saw 

many manikin arms and legs lying about, and various 

other portions of the manikin anatomy. The queer 

little Manikin - mender having satisfied them that he 



was not a weaver of spells, they all expressed a desire 
to see each kettle in operation. No sooner had they 
made known their wish than the proprietor of the hov- 
el ran out and gathered some fagots and started a fire, 
and filled his three kettles with water. 

" Suppose I put Dance on first ?" said the Manikin- 
mender. * 

They all nodded in the affirmative. 

So the Manikin -mender put Dance on, and they 
waited patiently for a few minutes, and then, when it 
began to boil, the liveliest music ever heard issued 
from the spout. The King listened to it for a mo- 
ment, and involuntarily arose and commenced to dance 
as no Moon King ever danced before. The Sorghum 
followed suit, and so did all 'the others. They danced 
up and down the cabin, and out through the door and 
back again. It seemed very strange that so many 
could dance at once in so small a room. And the 
longer the kettle boiled the faster the music became, 
and the faster the music movement the faster the 
movement of the dancers' feet. 

"The dance must continue till the music stops," 
said the Manikin-mender, " and the music won't stop 
until either the fire or the water is exhausted. Neither 
of them are " 

"Neither of 'them is/" screamed the Roasted Pig, 
grasping at the slightest straw of comfort in his dire 

But nothing that they could say or do had any in- 
fluence on the situation, and they danced until the 
water was boiled away and the music stopped, at which 
happy time they sank upon the ground exhausted. 

" If thou canst " 

" Hold up, Mr. Manikin-mender," said Tumpty Turn 


the Rhymer. " I think it about time we change our 
pronouns. Let's stick to ' I,' ' my,' ' mine,' ' he,' ' his,' 
' him,' etc. ;" and then the rhymer began singing, 
" Nominative they, possessive their or theirs, objective 

" Can you give me the possessive of ' that' ?" asked 
the Roasted Pig, following Tumpty Turn's suggestion 
to change the pronouns. 

" Certainly I can," replied Tumpty Turn. 

After a few moments of silence the Roasted Pig 
said, " Then why don't you ?" 

" Because you didn't ask me to. You asked me if 
I could do it, not if I would. I simply replied that I 
could. I am happy to see by your twinkling eye that 
what might be regarded as sarcasm on your part is 
merely an illustration of your love of exactness. Al- 
though most grammarians leave the possessive of the 
pronoun ' that ' blank, ' whose ' is correct." 

" Give me an example," demanded the Roasted Pig. 

" Certainly. That Amontillado whose great-grand- 
father sported a peach-pink sciatica in his button-hole 
to attract the attention of the Memoranda before he 
could charm and. swallow the fluttering wakerobin." 

While the Roasted Pig bowed humbly in acknowl- 
edgment of the correctness of the answer, the King- 

" Never mind the grammar never mind the gram- 
mar; but go on, good Tumpty Turn, and tell us the 
rest of the story of ' that Amontillado whose great- 
grandfather sported a peach-pink sciatica in his button- 
hole.' " 

" There is no story," replied Tumpty Turn. " It was 
just an example to prove the possessive of ' that ' to be 
' whose.' " 


" Can the kettle tell the Amontillado story ?" 

" Although there is no such story, yet might the 

kettle tell it, for you never know what the kettle will 

tell, as it generally tells a different story. Shall I put 

Story on ?" 

"At once, at once," replied the King, " if not sooner." 
So the queer little Manikin-mender put Story on, and 

it shortly boiled forth the following pathetic tale of : 


" Snowdrop was the beautiful daughter of the great 
and good Snow King Snowball the First, who reigned 
over Snowland, a country lying so far north that even 
its people were made of snow. Snowdrop was so 
beautiful that every Prince coming from any adjoining 
snow country fell desperately in love with her. She 
had so many suitors that she was really at a loss to 
know whom to accept, and, as a matter of course, was 
very vain. Besides the Princes of the neighboring 
countries, there was the son of a poor bellows-mender 
who loved the Princess so devotedly that when he sat 
down to an oil dinner which was about the only kind 
the poorer people of Snowland knew he fancied he 
was eating nightingales' tongues stuffed with rose- 
leaves. Being only a poor bellows-mender's son, he 
was afraid to declare his passion. 

" Finally, seeing that Snowdrop was pining away, the 
King said be would give her to the man who would 
produce the orange-blossom wreath for the wedding, 
provided he was not a fool. Now there was not an 
orange blossom in all Snowland, and never had been, 
but when the King's offer became known, all the young 
snow men for miles around started for the land of the 


olive and the rose for the blossoms for the coveted 
wreath. Poor Snowdrop was sad at heart, because she 
was afraid she might have to marry some one for whom 
she cared naught. Bat the snow men who started 
southward some on great birds, some in boats, and in 
every other way they could think of to get there and 
back first after a few days' journey came in contact 
with warm weather, and melted away. The Snow King 
learned this from a snow-bird. 

" Then the son of the bellows-mender pushed his 
plate of oil aside, stopped feasting on imaginary night- 
ingales' tongues stuffed with rose - leaves, presented 
himself to Snowball the First, and demanded the hand 
of Snowdrop. 

" ' Where's your orange wreath ?' asked the King. 

" ' I have none,' replied the bellows-mender's son. 
' I went in quest of none.' 

" ' Why did you not ?' 

" ' For the same reason that I now claim Snowdrop's 

" ' And what is that, pray ?' 

" That I am not a fool.' 

" The King at once appreciated the wisdom and phi- 
losophy of the poor bellows-mender's son, who shortly 
after was wedded to the lovely Snow Princess, with 
whom he led a long and happy life, the sunshine of 
which was unmarred by a single sullen cloud." 


"AVERT sweet little story, a very sweet little story," 
repeated the King. " If you will only keep Story boil- 
ing, and put each tale into a manikin, I will buy them 
all from you at the palace, five off thirty." 

The queer little Manikin-mender bowed politely, and 
the Sorghum said : 

" A very lovely tale indeed ! But why does not the 
queer little Manikin-mender put Song on ?" 

" Put Song on, put Song on quick ! quick !" ex- 
claimed the King. 

So Song was put on the fire, which was very low ; 
and after it had been on about seven minutes, during 
which the Sorghum regaled Silversmith the Tenth with 
an official statement relative to the latest sugar deal, it 
began to make a slight moaning sound, as though say- 
ing something in a very low tone. As soon as its 
sounds could be understood, it said, 

"When the cotton's softly growing on the sheep." 

It then paused for a moment, and continued by 
whistling one of those peculiar tunes that take hold of 
you and accompany your every movement. 

" Make Song finish it ; make Song " 

But Silversmith was compelled to stop, because the 
kettle had whistled the tune just long enough for him 
to catch it ; and when he did catch it, he held it, or 


rather it held him, and he was overcome. All the others 
caught it in the same way, and the effect was simply 
ludicrous. When the King moved his sceptre, it could 
be seen that it was to the time of the horrible tune ; 
and when the Roasted Pig wiped his eye-glasses, it 
was to the same movement. The Philosophic Farmer, 
in his silent reflection, nodded his head in harmony 
with the crazy melody. 

" I don't think we can, I don't think we can," ex- 
claimed the King, in a sort of reverie. 

" Don't think we can what ?" asked the Librarian. 

" I feel that we shall never be able to," said the 
King, more preoccupied than ever. 

" Able to what ?" asked the Sorghum. 

" Forget that tune," replied the King, coming quite 
suddenly to his senses. 

Just then the kettle stopped whistling, because the 
fire had gone out, and the cessation of the melody, if 
such it could be called, was a great relief. But al- 
though it stopped bubbling from the little spout it 
continued in their minds, and the King drummed it 
on the table with his finger, while all the rest kept 
time by tapping with their boot heels. 

Suddenly the King jumped up and shouted, 

" When the cotton's softly growing on the sheep !" 

"Why don't you continue?" asked Tumpty Turn, 
sarcastically, when he remembered the King's strictures 
upon a former occasion. 

Then the King began to whistle just as the kettle had 
done, and in spite of himself danced an accompani- 
ment. After he was through, they all walked out of the 
cabin of the queer little Manikin-mender to the time of 
the tune, the influence of which they could not shake off. 


"Why didn't you dwarf the Manikin-mender," asked 
the Librarian, " and boil him in the water of that awful 
tune ?" 

" It was not the Manikin-mender's fault," explained 
the King, in a wise tone that won the admiration of 
the Philosophic Farmer. " It was the fault of the 
kettle, over which the queer little Manikin-mender has 
no control. And, then, who would mend the manikins I 
Happy indeed would be the moon if manikin-menders 
were as plentiful as Prime-ministers !" 

" Would not it be a terrible punishment to be com- 
pelled to drink tea made of the boiling water that 
generates that tune ?" asked the Roasted Pig. 

" It could never become a form of punishment, for 
the simple reason that there is no crime of sufficient 
magnitude to warrant its infliction. But let us try to 
forget it," continued the weary Moon King. " Will not 
you say something,TumptyTum, to start a new subject?" 

" Certainly," replied Tumpty Turn. " How far is it 
to Molasses River Bridge, good Sorghum ?" 

" Not more than half a mile ; it is just beyond the 
Maple Syrup Whirlpool." 

They all proceeded in this direction, led by the Sor- 
ghum ; but, in spite of themselves, they beat time to 
the kettle's tune, while the molasses current lisped its 
crazy numbers, and the sugar-trees moaned it to the 
four winds. It was, of course, not a great while be- 
fore they reached the bridge and started to cross it. 

" Where does this take us to ?" asked Johnny. 

" Correctly speaking, it takes us nowhere," laughed 
the Librarian ; " but I comprehend your real meaning. 
Am I right in conjecturing that you would know where 
you will be if you cross it ?" 

" You are," responded Johnny. 


" Then you will be in the Land of Green Cheese. 
Those are the beautiful cheese meadows yonder." 

Johnny looked across the river, and saw the motley 
landscape, and was filled with delight. Every shade of 
cheese or cheese tone was distinctly visible, but the sage 
green predominated, giving the land its name. There 
were flowers of orange and yellow cheese, while many 
of the cheese-trees with rind bark had leaflets of these 
colors. The grass and clover were, of course, green. 

" Most little boys become greatly frightened upon 
first meeting the Tantamount," observed the King ; 
" but you," he continued, addressing Johnny, " must 
have no fear of him. Although he is a sort of winged 
leopard, with fierce glaring eyes, he is as gentle as a 
dove aye, as gentle as the Sorghum himself. Can 
you recite for us the poem, founded on fact, of 'Reuben 
L. Smith and the Tantamount, or Cheese King ?' " 

" I can," replied Tumpty Turn the Rhymer. 

After a minute or two of silence the King asked, 
" Why don't you do it, then ?" 

" Because you haven't asked me to. You merely 
asked me if I could do it. Now if you want me to 
recite the poem, just say so." 

" So," said the King, with a smile at his real or 
fancied joke. 

And then Tumpty Turn the Rhymer laughingly pro- 
nounced for Johnny's benefit and the amusement of the 
others, one of the Moon King's favorite comic poems : 


" One time he met the Tantamount 

Within a Stilton lea, 
Not far from the molasses fount, 
And weakened at the knee. 


" ' lie trembled in his scared surprise, 

His teeth all chattered, too ; 
He held his hands before his eyes, 
Nor peered his fingers through. 

"'The Tantamount with anger fumed; 

From kind his glances far, 
And Reuben's hirsute quick assumed 
The perpendicu-lar. 

" ' His eyeballs burned like living coals 

That lively sparks out-shoot, 
And Reuben quivered to his soles 
As though he'd taken root. 

""Tis when the Tantamount becrooks 

His spine, and glares red-hot, 
And flaunts his tail with goaded looks, 
That angry he is not. 

" ' That time he was not vexed nor mad, 

But happy through and through ; 
To meet the boy he was so glad 
He knew not what to do. 

" ' As Reuben chattered, while he shook 

Like jelly on a plate, 
The Cheese King from his pocket took 
A box of pills elate. 

" ' And gave one unto Reuben, who 

Not knowing what to say, 
The Tantamount then shouted to, 
" Good-morrow and good-day !" 

" ' The Tantamount, polite and proud, 

Removed his hat forthwith, 
And in majestic grandeur bowed 
Adieu to R. L. Smith, 


" ' Whose quaking shaking soon was still 

Upon the green-cheese plains, 
All owing to one qui-nine pill 
Of half a dozen grains.' " 

When Tumpty Turn the Rhymer had finished, Silver- 
smith the Tenth turned to Johnny, and said : 

" Do not be alarmed when the Tantamount appears, 
for he always looks exceedingly fierce and dangerous 
when he is in the best possible humor; and, on the 
other hand, he is extremely ferocious and unsociable 
when he wears the sweetest, serenest, gentlest, and 
most loving look." 

" How very singular !" said Johnny. " Is there any 
particular reason for this ?" 

" There is," replied the King " there is." 

" I should think," murmured the Owl, " that some 
moon poet would give the reason in verse." 
" There is a poem," replied Tumpty Turn the Rhy- 
mer, " on this very subject. If it be not too soon after 
the poem I just recited about the Tantamount, it would 
afford me genuine happiness to favor you with it." 

They were all only too anxious to hear it, so Tumpty 
Turn drew himself up and sang : 


" ' The reason the Tantamount dances 

When his eyes blaze a vitreous green, 
And very ferociously prances 

At the time he's most coy and serene ; 

" ' The reason a tender tear drizzles 

Down his face soothed in gentlest repose, 
When with anger he frizzles and sizzles 
From the tip of his tail to his nose 


" ' Is that, as a simple diversion, 

His dominion so lovely of cheese, 
He may rid, without any exertion, 
Of the casual rat that he sees. 

"'The rat notes his caudal's expansion, 

And he flies, like a ball to the mark, 
Down the sinuous lane to his mansion, 
Where he curls himself up in the dark. 

"'But when the old Tantamount's smiling 

Doth the rodent come forth in the sun; 
Then he opens his smile so beguiling, 
And Sir Rat's gobbled up like a bun.' " 

" Nature is indeed a wonderful thing," said Johnny, 
" to provide the Tantamount with such subtle power 
to prevent his dominion from being devoured. But 
what are those hills yonder that rise so grandly from 
the plains?" 

"Those," murmured the Sorghum, in admiration, 
"are the Mountains of the Moon, of which you may 
have heard the- great cheese mountains." 

He paused as though under a spell, for at that mo- 
ment a bright light flashed from the top of the highest 
of the cheese mountain-peaks, and it was soon evident 
that there was a volcano. It was not long before 
great waves of flame shot into the air in angry billows, 
and bathed in a rosy glow every valley in the Land of 
Green Cheese. Higher and higher the flames climbed, 
and every moment the scene became grander. 

"Are the mountains going to be melted into naught?" 
asked Johnny. 

" They are not going to be melted into naught," re- 
plied the Roasted Pig ; " they are going to be melted 
into Welsh rabbits." 


Before he said any more, or before Johnny could 
comment upon the information, there was a rustle in 
one of the cheese thickets, and out popped a flock of 
the prettiest Welsh rabbits Johnny ever saw. And 
right behind them came the Tantamount, the King of 
the Land of Green Cheese. From the way he lashed 
his tail, which cut the grass down like a scythe, and 
by the blazing of his emerald eyes, and by the great 
cloud of cheese he kicked up as he moved madly along, 
it was evident that he was in the best of spirits. 

" How do you do ?" shouted Silversmith the Tenth. 

The Tantamount was greatly pleased at meeting 
the merry party, which he joined with the "Welsh 
rabbits, all of them skipping about in the liveliest 

" How are you all ?" he asked. 

"Very well," they replied, with the exception of the 
French Poodle that couldn't speak English. He simply 
said, " Tres bien /" 

Johnny was not at all frightened at the Tantamount, 
which greatly pleased Silversmith the Tenth and the 
Sorghum, his old rival for the Molasses River crown. 
The Tantamount was greatly pleased at meeting John- 
ny, for he snapped his tail in the air until it sounded 
like a pistol-shot, and gnashed his teeth in the most 
ferocious manner. He was so glad to meet the Owl, 
and to know that it was back for good, that he lifted 
the great white bird in his paws, and laid his gleaming 
teeth against its wings. 

"I should be so happy to see you all at Cheese- 
borough House !" observed the Tantamount. 

"Where is that?" asked Johnny. 

" It is over on Green Cheese Lake, and is my pal- 



" I'll never get over it I'll never get over it !" ex- 
claimed Silversmith the Tenth. 

They looked, and saw him dancing. 

" That awful tune has worked down into my feet, 
and I must dance for relief." 


" Is it the horrible whistling that follows the line, 
' When the cotton's' " 

" Softly growing on the sheep," broke in Silver- 
smith the Tenth. 

" That's it," they all shouted. Where did you 
hear it for the first time ?" 


" I don't remember," murmured the Tantamount, 
" where I heard it for the first time ; but I would be 
willing to erect a sumptuous monument on the spot 
where I shall hear it for the last time." 

All this time the King was dancing, and whistling 
the tune, which also attacked the Welsh rabbits, and 
set them capering about as insanely as were the Phil- 
osophic Farmer and the rest of the party. 

But at the suggestion of the Tantamount, who evi- 
dently believed in the economy of labor, they all 
danced in the direction of Cheeseborough House, 
which stood some miles distant, on the picturesque 
margin of Green Cheese Lake. At length they 
reached it, and seated themselves beneath a spreading 
green-cheese tree, where they waited with watering 
mouths for the waiters to bring on the Welsh rabbits 
that had been killed and cooked for the occasion, and 
whose savory fumes they could scent on the breeze 
that floated from the direction of the culinary depart- 


"!T is a rare treat," said the Tantamount, " when a 
volcano occurs in one of the Cheese Mountains, for as 
the cheese melts it is quickly formed into Welsh rab- 
bits, and upon every such occasion I give a dinner to 
my friends, known as the Feast of Welsh Rabbits. 
It is seven years since the last, which occurred upon 
Mount Camembert, and this eruption of Mount Pot 
fills me with joy indeed, as you may see by my appar- 
ent fierceness. 

"Oui, oui, oui, 
Fromage de Brie," 

sang the French Poodle that couldn't speak English. 

At this moment the waiters appeared with the 
Welsh rabbits, and it was astonishing to see the Tant- 
amount carve them. In less than half a minute they 
were all served, and then the waiters came on with oth- 
ers, which seemed even more delicious than the first. 

They were all so hungry that there was little or no 
conversation until after the meal, when they took a 
look through Cheeseborough House at the invitation 
of the hospitable Tantamount. It was built mostly of 
buff cheese, with green veins running through it in 
such a way that it bore a very striking resemblance to 
the kind of marble which is highly esteemed for 


Beautiful cheese boudoirs led between portieres of 
cheese-cloth to sumptuous cheese stair-ways. There 
were sofas and divans of the same material, but of 
different colors, so that the artistic effect was highly 

" We thank you heartily for so sumptuously enter- 
taining us," said Silversmith the Tenth. " I don't 
think I ever before tasted a Welsh rabbit so artistically 
cooked and served ; and as for Cheeseborough House, 
it is something of which the moon may proudly boast, 
even unto the smallest detail of appointment and 

The fiery ferocity displayed by the Tantamount was 
proof positive of his heart -felt appreciation of the 
Moon King's praises. 

"But would you like to go with us?" asked the 
Moon King. 

" Where ?" asked the Tantamount. 

" To the Moon-beam Spring." 

The Tantamount said he would be only too happy 
to visit this great spring that furnished the moon-beams 
to light the earth. It was indeed a wonderful curios- 
ity of nature, was this spring, whose light bubbled up 
continually from the moon, and, flowing some dis- 
tance through a hollow, fell in a grand cascade over 
the rim of the great silver planet, to illuminate the 

It was therefore with great delight that they started 
out together in the direction of the Moon-beam Spring. 

" Have you ever seen the elastic tree ?" asked the 

" Never, never, never," replied the King, nervously. 

" There it is," said the Tantamount, who, being very 
nimble and catlike, pulled a branch down until it was 


stretched as thin as a broom handle ; then he sprang 
off the ground, and when the elastic limb flew back 
into place, he let go, and was shot a hundred feet into 
the air. He whirled about like a leaf in the storm, 
and to the surprise of all, especially the Roasted Pig, 
whose eye-glasses were covered with tears, he landed 
on his feet, like the quadruped whose characteristics 
he possessed. 

" Be ready, Sorghum, be ready," said Silversmith. 

" Ready for what ?" asked the Sorghum. 

" To defend us in case the Tantamount sees fit to 
attack us." The Roasted Pig just laughed, and the 
King said, " I'm afraid the Tantamount may seem suf- 
ficiently aggrieved to assume a hostile front, and eat 
us up before I can turn him into a tenpenny nail, and 
drive him into a tree right to the head." 

" You need have no fear," replied the Sorghum ; 
" he has a very keen appreciation of the ridiculous, 
and knows what should be laughed at and what should 
not. Now this being a funny act on his part, he 
naturally doesn't expect you to weep. On the con- 
trary, having performed a dangerous yet queer acro- 
batic feat for your amusement, he will feel disappointed 
if he is not properly applauded. Upon arriving at 
such a conclusion he may feel sufficiently piqued to 
devour one or two of the party from motives of self- 
respect. I advise you all to laugh heartily." 

Following the advice of the Sorghum, they all 
laughed with might and main, and swayed to and fro 
in an ecstasy of merriment, which greatly pleased the 

At this moment the wind began to blow, and the 
air was full of dust, or rather grated Parmesan. When 
this cloud whirled by, they were all attracted by the 


queer antics of the elastic tree. As it swayed in the 
wind, it would stretch to about five times its size when 
in repose, and when the wind subsided, the tree would 
naturally fly back to its original position. At one 
time, when it was out-stretched until it could stretch 
no farther, a pretty little briefinch lit upon one of its 
branches and began to sing. But when the tree flew 
back, it did so so suddenly that the poor little brie- 
finch had its legs snapped off close to the talons, which 
remained encircling the limb upon which it had been 

" Being an amphibious bird," said the Tantamount, 
" it will have to take to the water now." 

" But how will it paddle ?" asked Flowerbell. 

" It will not paddle," laughed the Tantamount ; " it 
will know enough to hold its wings aloft like sails, be- 
cause it is endowed with aquatic instincts; but its 
feet will grow on again." 

Suddenly the King burst forth in the following 


" Oh, what rare luck ! oh, what rare luck ! 

While his future feet are growing, 
Just like a duck just like a duck 
O'er the green lake to be blowing! 

" How fortunate how fortunate 

That he can take to the water ! 
Oh, happy fate ! oh, happy fate ! 
To be full of joy he oughter! 

"Oh, sweet briefinch, oh, sweet briefinch, 

Your beautiful wings of orange 
My muse I pinch my muse I pinch 
In vain for a rhyme for ' orange.' " 


" There isn't a rhyme for ' orange,' is there ?" asked 
the King. 

" None, sire," replied the authority, Tumpty Turn 
the Rhymer. 

" Then what shall I do ?" 

" Why don't you try ' lemon ' ?" asked the facetious 

The King pretended he didn't hear the remark, and 
the Librarian, fearing there might be trouble, turned 
the drift of the conversation by asking the distance to 
the Moon-beam Spring. 

" Three English cheese miles," responded the Phil- 
osophic Farmer. 

" And can you catch fish in this spring ?" asked 

" Silver-fish !" exclaimed the Tantamount in reply. 

" Oh, look !'' exclaimed Johnny. 

The King gazed all around up in the air and over 
the cheese landscape and then, seeing nothing, began 
to look in his pockets as upon a former occasion. 

" Oh no, not there," said Johnny. 

" Where, where, where ?" asked the King, at the 
same time looking all around. 

Johnny pointed to a thicket, and from the same ap- 
peared a very curious-looking animal, wearing the dis- 
consolate, languid expression peculiar to the barn-yard 
fowl that has remained without during a cold, rainy 

" Why, that is the Perforated Cat," said the Tanta- 

It was indeed a curious-looking animal, and but for 
the timely information of the Tantamount, might have 
passed itself off on the picnickers for a woodchuck or 
a Welsh rabbit. On each side of the Perforated Cat 



was a dainty landscape embroidered in finest silk, and 
the foliage always seemed to be moving. 

" Come, explain yourself for the edification of Silver- 
smith the Tenth and his merry picknickers," demanded 
the Tantamount, " or, rather, give us your history." 

Thereupon the Perforated Cat spoke as follows : 


" Originally I was a pleasant woollen cat, with bead 
eyes, and was used as an ornament in the library. I 
used to sit by the day and watch the crimson mouse 
that was used for a red-ink pen-wiper. I was made 
in a sitting posture, and for that reason could not run 
or stretch myself out, which made it impossible for 
me to spring upon the mouse. You will notice in my 
present peculiar limp the fault of the person that al- 
lowed the scissors to slip in cutting me out. Had 
this not happened, it would not have been necessary 
to gather me in so much in the sewing of my off hind- 


leg. I am not a machine-made cat, but this piece of 
information is perhaps of no interest. At present I 
have but one bead eye left, and as the thread that 
holds it in the socket is becoming loose, and my eye 
is moving about in the wind whichever way it blows, 
I shall naturally feel anxious until it is properly sewed 
in, and the question of my possible blindness put be- 
yond all peradventure." 

" Don't ramble so much," said the Tantamount ; 
"go back to where you said, 'which made it impos- 
sible for me to spring upon the mouse,' and continue 
in a direct and simple manner until you have explained 
the beautiful landscape panels that so delicately il- 
luminate your ribs." 

The Perforated Cat bowed politely, and continued : 
"Which made it impossible for me to spring npon 
the mouse. Not being able to walk, I did my best to 
coax the mouse within reach, but as he was fastened to 
a small octagonal piece of cloth, he, too, was unable to 
move. It made my red silk mouth water to see that 
mouse lying there with such beautiful indifference. 
Sometimes the boys in the house would hold me up 
in the air for the real dog to jump at, and on one oc- 
casion he caught me in his teeth, and my internal in- 
juries were excruciating in the extreme. In tossing 
me back and forth one day, one of the boys failed to 
catch rae^and I was cast into a tub of water and 
soaked through. I was dried upon the top of the 
kitchen stove, and in the process I lost my form, 
which I have not fully^regained even to this day. Do 
not I look as though drawn up by rheumatism here 
on the left ?" 

"You're wandering again," observed the Tanta- 
mount. " Now oblige me by going back to ' small 


octagonal piece of cloth, he, too, was unable to 
move.' " 

The Perforated Cat apologized, and went on : " Small 
octagonal piece of cloth, he, too, was unable to move. 
Well, one day the family went away for the summer, 
and during their absence " 

"Its absence !" exclaimed the Tantamount, " ' family ' 
being a collective noun." 

" Its absence," continued the Perforated Cat, with 
a mortified air, " the moths got through my cloth 
epidermis, and devoured the wool with which I was 
stuffed, and afterwards ate their way out through me. 
As each moth left a hole, I of course became a perfo- 
rated cat. Without my wool stuffing I fell down, 
being quite unable to stand. It was on the return of 
the family, which is a collective noun, that Lulu re- 
stuffed me, and then embroidered these landscapes on 
my sides. I will say that when I breathe the air 
passes out through these perforations, and keeps the 
silk leaves and grasses in motion. Do you notice 
the cat-bird perched on the muscat vine in the lateral 
valley on my left side ?" 

They said nothing in reply. 

" I like your refined manners very much," observed 
the Perforated Cat, sarcastically, "and I shall now 
teach you a dancing-lesson." 

" What ! do you dance ?" asked pretty little Rose- 

" I do not ; but when I fasten my disconsolate look 
upon a person, that person has to dance until I take 
it off." 

Here the Perforated Cat cast the most peculiar woe- 
begone expression ever seen upon the picnickers, and 
the spell was such that before they knew it, they were 


all dancing as hard as they did under the influence of 
Dance, the music - kettle of the queer little Manikin- 
mender. And the Perforated Cat continued its dis- 
consolate look so long that when she changed it into 
her happy expression, they had danced off many 
pounds of flesh. 

As suddenly as it appeared, the Perforated Cat van- 
ished ; and they all commented upon it at great length, 
and from all stand-points. 

" I only trust it may not discover Moon-beam Spring, 
and catch the silver-fish," moaned the Tantamount. 

" How far is this Moon - beam Spring anyhow ?" 
groaned Silversmith the Tenth. " We have been walk- 
ing from one end of the moon to the other, and it 
doesn't 'appear to be any nearer than when we started." 

" It is just on the other side of that Gruyere shrub- 

When the Tantamount had given this information, 
they all redoubled their steps, and in the course of 
ten or fifteen minutes they stood upon the margin of 
this magic body of never - failing moon -beams. Al- 
though called a spring, it was, properly speaking, a 
lake. It bubbled as though boiling, so great was the 
action of the moon-shine in coming up out of the in- 
terior of the moon. It seemed to flow in an easterly 
direction, the tide never turning, but continuing down 
to the edge of the moon, where it flowed over in a 
silver cascade and lit the earth. 

The Tantamount ascended the highest tree like a 
cat, and when at the top dived into the Moon-beam 
Spring with a shout of joy. When he swam ashore 
and came out he looked as though covered with pearl, 
but this he soon wiped off with the piece of magic 
cheese-cloth he always carried with him to keep off evil. 



Suddenly the moon became dark. 

" How long is this eclipse going to last ?" 

" Seven minutes and three seconds and one-eighth," 
replied the Tantamount, with the air of an astronomer. 

But in the dark the Moon Spring looked even love- 
lier than before. It was the only part of the moon 
that was light, and out upon its bosom a boat of pearl 
suddenly appeared, floating like a swan. 

" Oh, look at that pretty boat ! Where is it going ?" 
said Johnny. 

" Back to the earth, to take you home," replied the 
King. " We are very sorry to part with you and to 
break the news so suddenly. Have you ever heard of 
such a malady as moon -madness?" 

" I have," replied Johnny, sadly. 

" Well," continued Silversmith the Tenth, " as you 
don't belong to the moon 
that malady would at- 
tack you inside of an- 
other day, and although 
we dearly love to have 
you with us, as you may 
observe by the sad ex- 
pression of Roseflake 
and the heart-felt tears 
of our dear Sir Roasted, 
yet we feel constrained 
for your own good to 
send you on what must 
be your happy journey 

Here there was general weeping, in which the Owl 

" Think of me whenever you wander about in 



Painter's Woods," sobbed the Owl. " Think of me 
when in the rosy spring-time you gather the trailing 
arbutus and meek anemone. Think of me in the au- 
tumn, when the nuts patter on the dry leaves, and the 
frost silvers the empty nest in Johnson's old persim- 
mon-tree. Think of me, think " 

Here the Owl buried its face in its wings, for fear of 
being considered weak, and when it looked up Johnny 
stood upon the deck of the beautiful boat of pearl, as 
it moved down the Moon-beam River. 

They were fading fast away, even though the eclipse 
had vanished, but Johnny could see the Roasted Pig 
wiping his eye-glasses, and could hear them singing 

" When the cotton's softly growing on the sheep." 

After this the unearthly whistling was started, and 
while they all danced on the shores of the Land of 
Green Cheese Johnny himself joined in, and no doubt 
kept step with the feet he could no longer see. 

Down the Moon-beam River he went sadly, and after 
the pearl boat had passed over the falls it descended 
swiftly, but as gently as a dream. It was the same 
boat in which he had sailed to the moon, and was quite 
as luxurious and musical as on that happy occasion. 
AVhen the earth appeared in sight it looked, as upon 
his former voyage, very much like a two-grain quinine 

His great fear that the boat might land him in China 
was dissipated when he saw objects with which he was 
familiar, and which grew more numerous, until the 
boat actually floated into his father's garden and rested 
upon a bed of white hyacinths, where he stepped out. 
When he touched the ground he was again his natural 


size. He turned to take a last look at the dainty boat 
of pearl, only to see it dissolve softly into moonlight 
and vanish. 

Then, as he wandered up the box-fringed walk, he 
thought of all the silvery beauties of the moon that 
would shortly melt, like the magic boat of pearl, in the 
sunnier beauties of his own beloved home. 



ITTLE TOMMY HAWK had been out in 
the woods all day playing Indian. The 
chief of the tribe, Forty -six Stuffed Crows, 
had sent him across the small stream of 
water that ran through the wood behind 
the school-house, to see if he could discover the trail 
of the fugitive who had just crossed to make good his 

Tommy Hawk was so diligent in his search among 
the bushes, that before he was aware of it he found 
that it was impossible to retrace his steps. In other 
words, he was lost ; and in vain did he endeavor to 
communicate with Forty -six Stuffed Crows and his 
braves by shouting. He would have wept if he could 
have done so consistently. But he knew it would be 
entirely out of place for an Indian to weep especially 
in the devious tangles of the forest. So he tried to 
climb a tree to learn his exact whereabouts, for he was 
completely turned around. 

On his way up the tree he met a bear, and as the 
Bear was on the way down, and there was not room for 


them to pass each other, it was necessary for Tommy 
to show his politeness, and descend in order that the 
Bear might reach the ground without interference. Of 
course Tommy was in reality afraid of the Bear, but 
being in the guise of an Indian, he could not consist- 
ently show his fear. 

" Who are you, anyhow ?" asked Tommy, boldly. 

And the Bear stood on his hinder legs, and with a 
sunny smile replied : 

" I'm a jolly old bear, 

And I haven't a care 
When I'm dining on cranberry pie. 

Over hedges I vault 

With a gay somersault, 
When the wily fur-hunter is nigh. 

Oh, my soul's full of song, 

And I'm happy as long 
As the wide-blowing forest's my lair. 

With a ha, ha, ha, ha, 

And a tra, la, la, la 
I'm a jolly old cinnamon bear." 

Then the Bear began to whistle a lively tune, to which 
he danced in a most graceful manner. 

" You are certainly a very singular bear," said Tommy. 
And the Bear replied : 

" I'm a singular bear, with a spirit sublime, 

And the cause of my many woes 
Is that I can only talk in rhyme, 
And can't say a word in prose." 

" Do you mean to say that you cannot utter any- 
thing that does not rhyme ?" asked Tommy. 
And the Bear said, 


" I cannot utter a single 
Sentence that does not jingle." 

" I think I can teach you to speak in prose," said 

" How, 

Now ?" 
asked the Bear. 

" Let's bear you say just one word ?" 


replied the Bear. 

" Say a word that does not rhyme ?" said Tommy. 

" I would 

If I could," 
replied the Bear. 

" How old are you ?" asked Tommy. 
And the Bear responded, 

" I'll be seven upon my next birthday, 
Which occurs on the twenty-fourth of May." 

Tommy Hawk had seen many bears before. He had 
seen bears in menagerie cages, and he had seen stuffed 
bears in front of fur stores, and he had had toy bears 
carved out of wood, and he had read many stories about 
bears ; but this chance acquaintance was altogether the 
queerest bear he had ever seen or heard of. The idea 
of a bear not only being able to talk, but being able to 
utter nothing but rhymes as good as any he could find 
in any of his nursery books ! 

He could scarcely realize where he was or what he 
was doing. He went so far as to stick a pin into him- 


self to make sure that he was not dreaming. Then he 
said to the Bear : " My name is Tommy Hawk, and I 
belong to the Suppawnee tribe of Indians. Our chief's 
name is Forty-six Stuffed Crows. That is not his right 
name, though. His right name is Willie Kimberley. 
We are only make-believe Indians, and that is the rea- 
son I am lost. Don't you think it very sad ?" 

" The story's sad that you impart ; 
Indeed it almost breaks my heart." 

As a matter of fact, Tommy Hawk knew that he had 
seen men perform in bear-skins at the pantomime, and 
he was not at all certain that this was a real bear. 

Perhaps it might be some one with whom he was well 
acquainted masquerading in the woods, and probably 
acting as a decoy to attract other bears. One thing 
was certain : the Bear was a bear of refinement. Tom- 
my had never heard a bear talk before, but if they all 
talked with the ease and grace of this particular Bear, 
he concluded that they must be very desirable com- 

"Are you really a bear ?" asked Tommy, suddenly. 

The Bear sang : 

" If I am not a cinnamon bear 

From my stub-tail to my cranium, 
Why, then I simply must declare 
The geranium's not a geranium." 

" When are you happiest ?" asked Tommy, who was 
really at a loss for something to say. 
This was the bear's response : 

" I'm happiest when I lightly bound 

Beneath the hickory-tree ; 
I'm happiest when my pet cub's found 
A-climbing upon my knee. 


But the thing I like such a great big bit, 
That it makes me smile till I cry, 

Is videlicet, namely, to wit, 
As follows: cranberry pie." 

" It will pretty soon be time for you to lie in a tor- 
pid state, will not it ?" asked Tommy. 

" I never lie in a torpid state ; 

When the weather waxes cool 
To Waxland I fly at an awful rate 
I'm the King of Waxland's fool," 

replied the Bear, executing a lively step. 

" The King of Waxland's fool ?" repeated Tommy. 

" The King of Waxland's fool, yes, yes 

I'm the King of Waxland's fool; 
His life with merry jests I bless 

On evenings soft and cool. 
I make him, when he's in distress, 

Like a boy let loose from school. 
I'm the King of Waxland's fool, yes, yes 
I'm the King of Waxland's fool." 

" Who is the King of Waxland ?" asked Tommy. 

"He is the King of Waxland, 
And not the King of Flaxland." 

" But where is Waxland ?" asked Tommy. 

" Just walk a bit down yonder lane, and near a spring you'll see, 

Some ten feet in diameter, a waving sycamore, 
And on its trunk you quickly give a rap, and you will be 
Most astonished when it opens like an ordinary door. 

" When the portal softly closes, and you find yourself inside, 
You discover you are standing in a long and narrow aisle; 


And if you will take the trouble down the same to lightly 


You will shortly be in Waxland, which I think it's worth 
your while. 

" You will see the gay wax tapir spinning lightly on his nose ; 
You will see the fair wax dolphin on a silver waxen sea ; 
And, besides, you'll see some wonders which no mortal, I sup- 

Ever witnessed, if you'll blindly, if you'll kindly, come with 

"Ah, I'll be glad to go with you, good Mr. Bear," 
said Tommy, " because I am lost, and cannot find my 
way home, and I am sure I shall feel happy with such 
a kind, gentlemanly, refined bear as yourself." 

The Bear smiled, but did not reply, and they walked 
on together towards the sycamore which the Bear had 
told Tommy was the entrance to Waxland. The whole 
thing was so queer to the little Indian brave of the 
Suppawnee tribe, that he did not know what to say 
even when he felt it necessary to say something. Fi- 
nally he felt that he must say something, as he feared 
that the Bear, if his mind were not diverted by pleas- 
antries, might become despondent, forget himself, and 
devour his painted companion. At the same time, he 
thought that perhaps the whole story of Waxland was 
a mere ruse of the Bear's to inveigle him into his cave 
for the purpose of converting him into a dinner. He 
fancied he could see Mr. Bear sitting at the head of 
the table carving him, and Mrs. Bear at the other end 
pouring the tea, and the little bears sitting in their 
high chairs, with their mouths open, and smiles of 
happy anticipation dripping down on their pinafores. 

"Are not you often afraid you will be captured and 
converted into hair grease ?" 


" I'll never be bear grease, 

I'll never be hair grease ; 

I'll never be bear oil, 

I'll never be hair oil," 

replied the Bear, and he forthwith executed a dance 
with more agility and grace than is usually seen in the 
ursine race. 

They were now pretty near the old sycamore, and 
the Bear was feeling very lively, for he danced as he 
walked, and even when a butternut dropped and came 
in contact with his nose, it did not put him in an ill- 
humor. Turning a bend in the clearing, the sycamore 
appeared in sight. It was a gnarled old tree that no 
one would have taken for anything but an ordinary 
specimen, except that it was one of unusual size. 
When it came into the Bear's vision he seemed very 
happy, for he began to sing : 

"Pie, pie, cranberry pie, 

As red as the harvett-moon up in the sky, 

As sweet as the flowers that blow in the vale, 

As rich as the song of the rapt nightingale. 

I would like to ride daily unto my three meals 

In a chariot with cranberry pies for the wheels. 

I would just like to hear the sad wind as it grieves 

Through a forest with cranberry pies for the leaves. 

I should feel just as gay as a mouse in a cheese 

If I lived over yonder among the green trees 

In a little red palace just fifty feet high, 

And constructed entirely of cranberry pie. 

Pie, pie, cranberry pie. 

You may hunt the world low, you may hunt the world high, 

But nothing can waken my rapturous sigh 

In the very brief space that can cranberry pie. 

Cranberry very " 

But he was cut short, for in his wild enthusiasm he 
unconsciously touched the magic spring of the door of 


Waxland, and it flew open in his face, and struck him 
on the nose so hard that it gave him a sneezing fit. 
After it passed away, he sang, 

" Oh, come with me ! oh, come with me ! 
Aud merry Waxland you shall see." 

And when they entered, the door closed behind them. 

5 Key entered and CKedoor closed behind flxem. 


WHEN the door had closed, the Bear took Tommy by 
the hand, and they proceeded down a spiral staircase. 
The light was very dim, but Tommy could see that 
the staircase was inside a huge stick of candy, the 
steps running around in the red stripe and the rail in 
the yellow. It was the greatest stick of candy he 
had ever seen. It was as large around as a tree, and 
seemed a great deal higher, and Tommy fancied he 
would never reach the bottom. 

The Bear held him affectionately by the hand as 
they descended, and when finally they got to the bot- 
tom, he said, 

" This is the bottom of the stair, 
As sure as I'm a cinnamon bear." 

" What do we do next, Mr. Bear ?" asked Tommy. 

" We cross this pond 
To the bank beyond, 

Then we pass through an aisle of gloom, 
Till we reach the place 
Where you'll see with grace 

The gay waxteria bloom." 

Then the Bear told Tommy to get on his back, which 
Tommy did. The Bear then proceeded to walk across 
the pond, which was less than a foot deep. It did 


not take a great while to accomplish this, because 
the Bear was pretty lively. When he walked up the 
other bank he forgot about Tommy, and in giving 
himself a shake shook Tommy off on the ground. 
The Bear was very sorry, and apologized for his for- 

" Say silver orange ?" asked Tommy. 

The Bear was at a loss to understand Tommy's 
meaning. It seemed a queer way of accepting his 
abject apologies for shaking him off. But the Bear 
couldn't say silver orange, because nothing would 
rhyme with those words. It was a neat trick of Tom- 
my's to see if he could break the Bear of the rhym- 
ing habit, and teach him to talk in prose. 

" Oh, there's another bear ?" said Tommy, suddenly. 

" Is he a cinnamon bear too ?" 

" Oh yes, that's a cinnamon bear, 
Who capers around 
With his nose on the ground 
While performing a jig over there. 
He's a bear that can only talk prose. 
A prosy old bear, 
Who has never a care 
From the tip of his tail to his nose." 

Then the Lyric Bear introduced Tommy to the 
Prose Bear, and it was very refreshing to Tommy to 
meet an animal who could pass the time of day with- 
out dropping into rhyme. 

" Ah ! I am so glad to meet you," said Tommy, as 
he shook the Prose Bear by the paw ; " but I didn't 
catch your name." 

" Edward Persimmons," repeated the Bear ; " and I 
am a very matter-of-fact creature, too, I can assure you. 
Do you know, I can see no more beauty in a tea-rose 


than I can in a coffee-bean, a sugar-beet, or a milk- 
weed ?" 

" You astonish me," replied Tommy, with a tremor. 
" If you cannot see any beauty in a tea-rose, I fancy 
I shall have to feel afraid of you. Are you fond of 
music ?" 

" I am not," he replied. 

" How far off is Waxland ?" asked Tommy, when he 
had recovered from the shock. 

" Oh," said the Prose Bear, thoughtfully, " it is only 
a short distance. I generally wait here to accompany 
the Lyric Bear to the palace. I have to stay here in 
the dark for ever so long, because when Waxland goes 
out in the spring and the Lyric Bear leaves, I have to 
remain here and suck my thumbs and wait for him to 
return. I tell you I am always so glad to see him that 
if I were not a prosy, phlegmatic bear, I should prob- 
ably burst into a song and dance on first observing his 
pleasant face. Do you know that at the present time 
I am a mass of wild hilarity subdued by my natural 
inactivity ? Do you know that I am a smouldering 
fire of unbounded joy yearning for a means of giving 
it vent ?" 

" No," replied Tommy. " How should I know any 
such thing before being told of it ? Perhaps you will 
ask me directly if I am aware of the fact that last 
May your grandmother was turned into a peach pie 
by a wicked fairy with a green mole on his left ear, 
and a vest pocketful of lizards singing a Welsh sere- 

The Prose Bear was nonplussed at this. 

" Perhaps you will ask me," continued Tommy, " if 
I know that your grandfather's mother-in-law used to 
make rolls of jelly-cake in the high hat of the giant 


whose third wife was turned into a jar of pickled but- 
ternuts, for feeding guava jelly-fish to the three-cor- 
nered tomcat with the ultramarine wings." 

The Prose Bear looked as though he had complete- 
ly lost his senses through fright, and didn't know 
what to do. Finally he said : " If you say anything 
like that again, you will break my heart. I am not 
accustomed to having such things said to me on the 
spur of the moment, when I am not on my guard. 
When you think of any such weird thing again, will 
you have the kindness to make me aware of the fact 
that you will say it in ten minutes ?" 

" Certainly," replied Tommy. 

" I am only a poor Prose Bear, and cannot, there- 
fore, pour out the song of gratitude that is at present 
singing itself in my heart. I would like you to act 
in this way : Draw forth your watch, and say, ' Mr. 
Persimmons, I have conceived a horrible fancy, which 
I desire to express to you in my own peculiar fashion. 
It is now twenty-five minutes of three ; at ten minutes 
of three be prepared.' " 

" That is a very fair proposition," replied Tommy, 
" and I can promise faithfully to respect it, because I 
never again intend to disturb your peace of rnind in 
a like manner." 

"You are really a nice little boy," said the Prose 
Bear ; " and if I may presume on a seven-minute ac- 
quaintance, I would like to make you aware of the fact 
that you have made a favorable impression on the old 
Prose Bear's heart. I would like to give you a hug." 

" Oh, please don't," exclaimed Tommy, in alarm, for 
he had not read bear stories for nothing. 

" Well, then, perhaps you will allow me to make a 
little friendly suggestion ?" 


" What is it?" asked Tommy. 

" If I felt sure that it would be accepted in the 
kindly spirit in which it is offered " 

" It will be," broke in Tommy. 

" Well, I would advise you either to wash your face 
or give it a fresh coat of paint. It is quite out of 
tone at present." 

" I only put that on while playing Indian," ex- 
plained Tommy, as he stooped to a little spring by the 
way and washed it off ; " but now how am I going to 
1 dry my face ?" 

" Don't dry it at all. It is absurd to put water on 
your face for the sake of rubbing it off. Would it 
not be inconsistent with good sense to rush out in the 
fields with towels to dry the dewy flowers ?" 

" It would," said Tommy. 

" Then let the water dry in." 

" I will not argue with you any further, good Mr. 
Prose Bear, but will let it dry in. If water cannot 
hurt the delicate flowers, it cannot injure me, be- 
cause " Tommy looked suddenly about, and, in 
great surprise, continued, " Oh, look there !" 

Both the Prose and Lyric Bears looked about. 

" Are not those pansies that cover that great 
meadow ?" 

" They are," replied the Prose Bear. 

Tommy looked, and feasted his eyes on the beauti- 
ful sight. The earth was perfectly blue, and seemed 
to throb with mellow fragrance. When the wind 
touched the purple, it waved to and fro like a gently 
rippled sea, and some white pigeons sitting on it 
looked like lovely full-blown lilies. 

"This is the frontier of Waxland," said the Prose 


" And what are the pansies for ?" asked Tommy. 

" They are the eyes for the wax dolls." 

" And is this where they make wax dolls ?" 

" This is the place where the wax dolls are made," 
replied the Prose Bear. " Waxland is pretty much all 
wax. The streets are wax, the houses are wax, and the 
gardens are full of wax flowers." 

" But how do you bears come to be here." 

" We are the agents of the bees ; we dispose of the 
beeswax to the King of Waxland. That is the only 
kind of wax that does not abound here. They have 
wax string-beans, whose strings are waxed ends ; they 
have sealing-wax growing in the ground in long red 
sticks like radishes ; they have wax-candle trees, and 
cobbler's wax growing right on the cob " 

" Was that joke on cobbler and cob accidental ?" 
asked Tommy. 

"Frankly, it was not," replied the Prose Bear, tear- 
fully ; " but I was feeling so happy just then over the 
reillumination of Waxland and the return of the Lyric 
Bear that I couldn't control myself. But to return to 
the bees : we are their agents because of our natural 
fondness for honey. The Lyric Bear is very much of 
a comic toy-book bear ; and as the King is fond of a 
joke, he has induced him to become his fool or jester. 
But it is a great shame to think that he cannot talk 
in prose. One day the Wax King ordered him to 
be waylaid by a party of Waxlanders, and beaten 
with waxteria switches, to see if he would yell any- 
thing in prose, but he screeched nothing but, ' Ow, 
ow, ow ! wow, wow, wow !' and the King gave it 

" What is the King's name ?" 

" Waxem." 


" Did not I just hear you say something about the 
reillumination of Waxland ?" 

" You did," replied the Prose Bear ; " and perhaps 
I ought to say that Waxland is dark half the time and 
light the other half. There is only one day in the 
year, and half of that day is light, and the other 
half dark. During the light half, the Feast of Wax 
Candles, the Feast of Waxed Ends, and other celebra- 
tions take place. During the dark half all Waxland 

" How is Waxland lighted ?" 

" By wax, of course," replied the Prose Bear. " It 
was originally lighted by a wax moon, which used to 
float around about half a mile above Waxland. It was 
a round body full of burning wax. Its heat used to 
enable it to draw wax up from Waxland, and that kept 
it supplied with fuel." 

" But how would it go out when the darkness 
came ?" 

" Of its own accord, I suppose," said the Prose 
Bear. " It would grow dimmer and dimmer every 
day, and then people would begin to get under cover 
for the night. After it went out it kept going around 
as usual, but of course was invisible, and simply wasted 
its time." 

" But how did the wax moon come to stop ?" asked 

" We never knew, but suppose to this day that its 
draughts or air-box got shifted out of place. For all 
of a sudden a shower of wax started, and the wax 
moon began to grow smaller and smaller, until it finally 
looked like a white gumdrop. And all the wax set- 
tled in a great wax hollow, and is now known as the 
Great Wax Sea. During the day this sea is a sea of 


fire, just as it was when it was a moon, and at night it 
is an illuminated body." 

" Any man in it ?" asked Tommy. 

" No ; only a fish : this fish used to drink the super- 
fluous fuel it drew up, to keep the moon from slopping 
over. And now it swims about in the Great Wax 

" What is it called ?" asked Tommy. 

" It is called the Wax Dolphin, because it is really 
a doll with fin's. It also wears yellow hair and a blue 
dress, and sometimes walks on the Great Wax Sea, and 
sometimes swims along its surface as gracefully as the 

" But how is Waxland lighted now ?" asked Tommy. 

" That I would rather not tell you, because you shall 
soon see it lighted before your very eyes. Do you 
hear that whizzing sound ?" 

" Yes," replied Tommy. " What is it ?" 

" That is the Wax Tapir spinning on his nose." 

" Oh yes," said Tommy, clapping his hands ; " Mr. 
Lyric Bear told me all about the Wax Tapir, and the 
Wax Dolphin, too, in a neat little verse just after I met 
him. How long does he spin ?" 

"Until Waxland is pretty well lighted. His whir 
wakes all the people up. Just hear how loud he is 
going now !" 

Tommy listened, and sure enough the Wax Tapir's 
whir became louder and louder, until it sounded like 
a saw-mill on a moaning sea-shore. 

Then the Lyric Bear sang : 

" When the little Wax Tapir begins 
To whirl all around on his nose, 
Oh, it's faster and faster he spins 

As he fashions his course with his toes. 


Oh, he wakes the Waxlanders from sleep, 
And they rush from their pleasant repose 

To observe the old Wax Tapir keep 
Spinning swiftly around on his nose." 

" Oh, look, look !" cried Tommy. 

And as they turned they saw an excited wax popu- 
lace waving their wax hats in glee against a delicate 
orange background. 

The more the Waxlanders waved their wax hands 
the faster the Wax Tapir kept spinning. He would 
disappear down one avenue and appear on another. 
After he had spun through all the streets, he stopped 
before the palace, and spun and whirred until a wax 
attendant ran out and told him the King was awake, 
and that further whirring would be superfluous. 

So the Wax Tapir jumped lightly from his nose to 
his feet, and ran over to join the Prose and Lyric 

" I should think you would wear your nose right 
back to your eyes spinning in that fashion," said 
Tommy, after he had been introduced to the Wax 

" One would naturally draw that inference," replied 
the Wax Tapir, " but there is no more danger of my 
wearing my nose out by spinning on it than there is 
of your wearing your feet off to the ankles by walk- 
ing on them." 

Then they proceeded farther into Waxland. When 
they reached a beautiful wax hill they paused, and 
Tommy saw the most wonderful sight of his life. All 
the wax for miles around was dotted with little balls 
of fire. Tommy noticed that the ones close to him 
were lighted wax candles. He couldn't imagine how 
they ever started, and the most curious part of it all 


was that as the candles continued to burn they grew 
higher instead of diminishing. When they got six or 
eight feet high, branches began to shoot from them 
in every direction. And from these branches other 
branches sprang, until each candle was a beautiful wax 
tree, and the flames on the branches all turned into 
wax flowers of every color. 


TOMMY watched with astonishment the wonderful 
sights that were revealed to him as, in company with 
his two friends, the Prose and the Lyric Bears, he 
journeyed towards the Great Wax Sea. Suddenly his 
attention was arrested by a lot of queer-looking figures. 

" Oh, what are those men doing ? ' he exclaimed. 

" They are the hands of the wax doll factory going 

to work." 

" Sturdy sons of Waxland soil 
Going to their daily toil," 

added his poetical friend. 

" I should like to see the wax doll factory," said 

" If that sight will be a boon, 
You shall see it pretty soon," 

replied the Lyric Bear. 

So they all started away together, and were soon 
at the wax doll factory. It was very curious to Tom- 
my to see all the men at work making wax dolls. One 
man would make a head, and pass it to another who 
should put the hair on, and he in turn would give it to 
one who would insert the eyes and paint the pleasant 
smile. And so the wax doll would go from one to 
another until it was complete, dress and all. 

Tommy was not a little astonished when he heard 


the wax foreman order a lot of his wax inferiors to 
go forth to the frontier and gather a ton or two of 
eyes. Of course he alluded to the pansies that Tommy 
had seen, and which had been explained to him by the 
kindly old Prose Bear. 

After they had departed with their baskets on their 
arms, there was quite a commotion in the eye de- 
partment of the wax doll factory. One of the wax 
workers had got overheated, and was melted into a 
shapeless mass. He was running all over the floor 
and settling in the cracks. 

But the commotion did not last long. The wax 
man was gathered up and put in a vessel and melted. 
Then the mould of a man was brought out, and the 
melted wax poured into it. Then it was put in cold 
water to harden. 

"Oh, let me out, let me out !" came a voice from 

" I guess he's all right, now," said the foreman. 
So the mould was taken out of the cold water and 
opened, when the man stepped forth, apparently as 
well as ever. 

One of his ears was wanting, however, but that was 
owing to the fact that he was not all gathered from 
the floor. The ear was probably in the crack. 

Then it was amusing to see the wax man picking 
the splinters and nails out of himself that had stuck 
to the wax and been thrown in and boiled with it. 
Most of them were forced to the surface in the boil- 
ing process, and he had little difficulty in removing 

" Does this sort of thing happen very often ?" asked 

" Oh yes," replied the Prose Bear ; " it is not an 


unusual occurrence ; but sometimes curious complica- 
tions arise. Not long ago a man was melted, and 
the only mould in the place was one for a man about 
twice his size. So they threw the melted man into 
the vessel, and then melted his brother and threw in 
with him. The two just filled the mould, and came 
out a giant, and the wives of both men claimed the 
giant for a husband. Each one insisted so strongly 
that her claim was more just than that of the other 
that Waxem ordered the giant to be melted and run 
into two smaller moulds. This was done, and each 
woman had her husband back. Sometimes a poor 
wax family will take four or five sons, melt them, 
and run them into a large mould, and make a man 
of them. On the other hand, a man may have an 
old grandfather depending on him. He is tooth- 
less and weary, and in his own way and every one 
else's. So the grandson humanely has the old man 
melted and run into children's moulds. One ordinary 
grandfather will make three ten-year-olds. That is the 
reason that no one ever dies in Waxland. When a 
man grows old he is melted and remoulded. Some- 
times for crime a man is melted and left so for a 
number of years, after which he is restored to his 
family by the process of the mould." 

While Tommy listened aghast to the story of people 
being melted, the Lyrical Bear sang : 

"All the Prose Bear's said to you 
Is iu every detail true. 
Sometimes will a man melt up 
Like the sugar in your cup; 
And whenever he is found 
Lying melted on the ground, 
He's remelted in -a pot 
Till he bubbles round red-hot; 


Then he's poured into a mould, 
Where he's left until he's cold ; 
Then the mould is opened wide, 
When he steps forth in his pride." 

The Lyric Bear's indorsement of his friend's state- 
ment convinced Tommy that it was quite true. In 
fact, he needed no assurance of the truth of what he 
had witnessed with his own eyes. 

Here the Prose Bear began pulling sticks of red 
sealing-wax out of the ground and eating them. After 
he had eaten several he pulled down the limbs of a 
wax -candle tree, and commenced eating candles like 
sticks of candy. 

And the Lyric Bear followed suit, and, as he did so, 
sang : 

" We eat these waxen candles 

To lighten all our cares ; 
So please don't dream or fancy 
That we are Russian bears." 

So they continued eating for quite a long while. 
After they had eaten the candles they proceeded to 
make a dessert of wax flowers, which were blowing 
all over the ground. 

" Oh, oh !" said Tommy. 

" Oh, oh, what ?" asked the Prose Bear. 

" Oh, oh, 
How so?" 

inquired the Lyric Bear. 

" There's a red man. Have you wax Indians ?" 
" Oh no," responded the Prose Bear ; " that man is 

simply made of red wax. We have people here of all 

colors. Sometimes a man is a mixture of waxes of 

every color/' 


" What is that music ?" asked Tommy. 

" That is the music of the King's footsteps ; when- 
ever he puts his foot on the ground, the air is filled 
with music. It is a way he has of announcing his ap- 
proach to his subjects. The music of his walk can 
be heard from one end of Waxland to the other, 
and it is as audible at the extreme boundaries as it 
is here." 

Tommy looked around, but could not see the King, 
but he could hear the music distinctly as it rippled 
through the air. 

" Where is the King, anyhow ?" asked Tommy, as 
he looked about for him in vain. 

"We cannot tell exactly where he is," responded 
the Prose Bear ; " he may be a hundred feet off, and 
he may be several miles distant. When he is close, 
you know, the music sounds no louder than when he 
is far away." 

" But I think I see him," said Tommy, " down there 
by that wax-match shrubbery." 

" Ob, here he comes, oh, here he comes, 
Snapping his fingers and snapping his thumbs," 

said the Lyric Bear. 

And sure enough they saw the King of Waxland 
coming up the hill, about half a mile away. He was 
waving his hands in the air as though playing on cas- 
tanets, and swaying his body in time with the tune his 
feet played as he walked. 

"Do his feet always play music?" asked Tommy. 

" Always," replied the Prose Bear, " except when 

they are in repose. Sometimes he gives a kick in his 

sleep, and the music wakens him. I have frequently 

seen him break into a jig a most undignified act for 



one in his position simply to drown some disagree- 
able noise." 

" How many tunes are there in him ?" asked Tommy. 

" There is a tune for every day," replied the Prose 
Bear, " that his life may not become a burden to him 
and every one around him." 

" But why is not the Queen with him ?" asked 

"Simply because she plays a different tune with 
each foot," replied the Prose Bear, " and when they 
become mixed with the King's tune it makes it very 
confusing, not to say annoying." 

" Don't they ever walk together ?" asked Tommy. 

" Never," responded the Prose Bear. " If the Queen 
goes out with the King, she is carried on the shoulders 
of half a dozen Waxlanders, because then she cannot 
play those tunes." 

" But how is she affected when she goes out alone ?" 

" She is not affected at all then, because, fortunately, 
she is deaf." 

By this time the King was sufficiently hear to re- 
ceive the salutations of the Prose and Lyric Bears, 
which he duly returned. 

Tommy felt a little constrained and ill at ease, be- 
cause he had never before been in the presence of a 
wax king. But the Wax King was so pleasant that 
Tommy soon felt pretty well acquainted with him. 
As he walked along, the music elicited by his feet 
happened to be a reel, and the Prose and Lyric Bears 
joined paws, and kept a short distance before him, 
and danced as they continued on their way. This 
amused the Wax King very much, and he laughed 
heartily, and occasionally changed the time of his 
steps to see if he could throw the bears out of time. 


But in this he was not successful, the bears seeming to 
adapt their steps to any measure that he could create. 

" I caught a couple of conspirators this morning," 
said the King. 

" What was their conspiracy ?" asked the Prose 

" They were lying in wait to catch and melt me, 
and leave me in a heap on the ground." 

" But that would be murder, would not it ?" asked 

" No," replied the King, " it would not be murder : 
it would be wax annihilation, for I might lie there for- 
ever, and if they could find the mould I was cast in, 
one of them could melt the other and run him into it, 
and Waxland would never know the difference." 

" And what did you do with them ?" 

" Had them melted and recast into wax pigs," said 
the King. " But how far is it to the Great Wax Sea ?" 

" It is less than a mile 
To the Great Wax Sea; 
If you think it worth while 
Please to follow me," 

replied the Lyric Bear. 

" I have never yet," said the King, " heard that 
Lyric Bear say anything that did not rhyme, and 
never yet did I hear him utter anything but the bald- 
est commonplace. I love both these bears dearly, 
in spite of their clumsiness and brusque manners. 
They tell me how my other subjects, the bees, are 
getting along, and as I never see the bees, of course 
I could get no news from them. If I could only melt 
them (the bears) and run them into other moulds, I 
should be only too happy to turn them into pea- 


cocks or birds, or anything that might strike their 

" But bears are often melted into bear grease," re- 
plied Tommy, " and you might melt them and mix 
them with wax, leaving just bear grease enough to 
sustain life. Then you could gradually add wax until 
there was no bear grease left, and then you could 
melt them over, and cast them to suit their fancies." 

" I am afraid the first melting of the bears would 
be attended by too great pain; and, besides, I don't 
believe there is any room for improvement in those 
bears, so they had better be left just as they stand 
and dance." 

" There is the Great Wax Sea," said the Prose Bear. 

" I don't see it," replied Tommy. 

" You can't see it until after dark," said the Prose 
Bear, " because it used to be a moon, and it is really 
to-day a moon on the ground. It is always invisible 
in daylight; but just wait until the wax flowers begin 
to droop, and you will see it in all its opalescent 

Then the King said, " Screech up the wax amphi- 
theatre " 

The Prose Bear began to bellow the wildest gib- 
berish to Tommy, and the arena came forth from the 

After the grand ring had appeared above the 
ground, or rather wax, seats began to appear around 
the ring. The large high seat was for the King, and 
there was one beside him for the Queen. The Lyric 
Bear stood beside the Queen, and the Prose Bear be- 
side the King during the festivities. 

It was the custom of Waxland to spend the day at 
this place. The King only used his palace to sleep in 


during the long weary six-month night. When the 
six-month day dawned, he was ready for a six-month 
day of pleasure. And he often remained here until 
the Wax Dolphin could be seen swimming on the Great 
Wax Sea, which was the signal for retiring for the 

The King had already taken his place, and the 
Prose Bear stood at his side. The Lyric Bear awaited 
the coming of the Queen. He had not long to wait, 
for the faithful subjects of the King were bearing 
her on their shoulders, that she might not touch the 
ground and disturb the King's peace of mind by play- 
ing two tunes simultaneously. The only way she could 
play but one tune was by hopping, but this was a very 
tiresome method of locomotion, and the Queen pre- 
ferred being carried. But when her feet touched the 
ground, both her tunes started up, and as they did so 
and she walked, she left a trail of lovely flowers be- 
hind her. 


WHEREVER the Queen's foot touched the ground a 
flower sprang immediately into bloom. For this rea- 
son she could never be lost. It would only be neces- 
sary to follow her trail of flowers. All her robes were 
made of flowers woven into a dainty fabric, and the 
flowers retained all their beauty and freshness, and the 
Queen looked as though she were made of the souls of 
flowers by the touch of a magician's wand. Notwith- 
standing her superb beauty and loveliness, the King 
stuffed his fingers into his ears as she ascended the wax 
staircase, and took her place beside him. The Lyric 
Bear stood at her elbow, with a pleasant smile that 
literally trickled out of his eyes. The other seats 
about the great ring were filled with delighted Wax- 
landers. Tommy stood beside the Lyric Bear and 
held his paw, as he, the Lyric Bear, was his guide. 

Then two doors opened on one side of the ring, and 
the Wax Tapir came hopping out on his nose, and com- 
menced whirling around the ring, and making the 
same whirring sound that he had made when awaken- 
ing Waxland. He soon attained such speed that he 
became invisible. But if he became invisible, he cer- 
tainly did not become inaudible. He seemed to turn 
into a circle of sound. 

" What is the Wax Tapir doing that for ?" 

" He is waking up the wax animals," replied the 


King ; " they will perform various acts for our pleas- 
ure, according to custom, as soon as they are wide 

" But where is the Wax Tapir now ?" asked Tommy. 

" He has gone out," replied the King ; " that is, he 
has spun himself asleep, and will not awake and be- 
come visible until to-morrow morning six months 
hence, when it will be time to wake Waxland again. 
You know the Wax Tapir lets us know when it is time 
to arise for the day, and the Wax Dolphin when it is 
time to retire for the night." 

" But where is the Great Wax Sea ?" asked Tommy. 

" The Great Wax Sea," said the King, " is situated 
in the middle of this great ring. There is only a track 
for the wax animals to run on, about twenty feet wide, 
extending around the outside of the sea. Of course 
you cannot see the Great Wax Sea, sometimes called 
the Moon Sea, because the light of day makes it in- 
visible. But look !" 

The doors from which the Wax Tapir had emerged 
opened again, and about a thousand storks filed out 
and bowed to the King. 

Then they began running around the ring as hard 
as they could go. Around, around they went, increas- 
ing their speed as much as possible. Each wax stork 
seemed to be running as if for its life, and yet it was 
impossible to see which was ahead. 

" What are they running for ?" asked Tommy, in a 
mystified way. 

" They are running to see who is to be the King of 
the wax storks," replied the King. 

" But how can they find the King in that way ?" 

" Very simply ; they are running to melt their legs 
off. The stork whose legs are melted off first will 


make known the fact by swimming in the now invis- 
ible Moon Sea, and as soon as he touches the Moon 
Sea he will turn into a black swan, and the Wax Dol- 
phin will touch his head, upon which will blaze a 
golden crown." 

Then they turned their attention to the storks, who 
were still running with might and main to gain the 
coveted golden crown. Some wobbled sideways, be- 
cause one leg had melted more than the other. And 
it was plain to be seen that the storks were not as tall 
as when they commenced, as their legs had melted off 
fully a foot; and-they kept getting shorter and shorter, 
until the storks looked like turkeys with the excep- 
tion of their bills. 

Suddenly they all stopped. 

"The race is over, 

The King is found ; 
He's in wax clover 
Because he's crowned," 

sang the Lyric Bear. 

And sure enough, while the unsuccessful storks 
flapped their wings and screeched in acknowledgment 
of defeat, a beautiful shining jet-black swan floated 
across the bosom of the invisible Moon Sea, and when 
it had swum out a long distance a golden crown sud- 
denly appeared on its head, and the spectators knew 
that it had been put there by the hand of the lovely 
but invisible Wax Dolphin. 

Then the other storks rose and flew away in a great 
flock to have their legs renewed. Meanwhile the King 
Stork floated about as gracefully as a gondola, and 
seemed greatly pleased with its new position. But in 
a little while it seemed to tire of the Moon Sea, and to 


long for the companionship of its old friends, for it 
rose from the sea, and flew away in the direction that 
they had taken. 

When the King Stork was out of sight, Tommy 
wondered what was going to happen next ; but he 
had not a great while to wait, for no sooner had the 
Lyric Bear made a humorous observation that it would 
be an injustice to him to repeat, than the doors from 
which the storks had come opened, and a little island, 
so densely covered with flowers that it seemed sim- 
ply a heap of blossoms, floated out, and did not be- 
come stationary until about fifty feet in front of the 

The island seemed to float in the air, and all admired 
it, even the bears, who dreamed of honey when they 
saw tke lovely flowers ; for they suggested honey, al- 
though they were simply wax. 

" Whose little island is that, Mr. Prose Bear ?" asked 
Tommy Hawk, with a look of surprise and joy. 

" That is the flower bower of the Little Wax Day- 

" What does he do ?" 

" Why, he makes the days, of course ; not the days 
of Waxland, but the days of your world." 

Then the Little Wax Day-maker appeared. He was 
a very dainty personage, and was black, white, gray, 
and yellow. The black represented the dark or rainy 
days ; the white, the snowy days of winter ; the gray, 
the overcast, doubtful days ; and the yellow, the days 
of perfect sunshine. 

Tommy was greatly pleased with the appearance of 
this little wax fairy, and did not fail to praise him in 
the warmest terms. 

Then a white bird flew out of the bank of flowers. 


" That is a day of snow," said the Prose Bear, as 
the white bird vanished in the sky. 

Then a black bird flew out. 

" That is a day of pattering rain and wailing wind," 
remarked the Prose Bear. 

" I hope that is not a Saturday, when there is no 
school," said Tommy. 

Then out flew a white bird, followed by a gray one, 
and so they kept on, until three hundred and sixty- 
five birds had vanished in the sky. 

The Prose Bear kept an account, and told Tommy 
just how many fine and how many rainy days he would 
have next year. Then a big gold bowl, fringed with 
lilies and roses, appeared above the flowers. The 
Little Wax Day-maker sat gracefully on the rim and 
stirred the flowers within with a long green ladle, that 
was really a hollyhock. 

" What is he going to do now, Mr. Prose Bear ?" 

" He is now the Little Wax Dream-maker," replied 
the Prose Bear ; "and he is going to make the dreams 
that the King and Queen are going to have to-night, 
which is some four or five of your months distant 
from the present time." 

"He plucks a flower as white as snow, 
Up into the air to lightly throw, 
And when it turns in its flight to fall, 
It will suddenly burst like a big puff-ball, 
And pictures will out of that flower stream, 
And they'll show us our goodly King's next dream," 

sang the Lyric Bear. 

When he had ceased, the Little Wax Dream-maker 
tossed a great shining wax lily into the air, and as it 
turned to descend, it burst like a rocket, and the King 


knew the dream he was going to have that night, al- 
though the night was several months off. 

He could see himself as the King of the band of 
Head-cheese wandering over the Head-cheese Mount- 
ains, hated and despised by all his subjects. He was 
an unbearable tyrant, and all his subjects detested 
him, and longed for the time that they could chop 
him up and make head -cheese of him. Even the 
beasts hated him, and finally they agreed to put an 
end to him. The animals all began to chase him. An 
elephant was right on his track, and the King, out of 
breath, was making for a narrow passage-way under 
some trees that the elephant's girth would prevent 
him from passing through. But the elephant had the 
power to lose or gain flesh at will, so, by the time ho 
reached the trees, instead of being a regular thick-set 
elephant, he was stretched out until he was a hundred 
feet long and no thicker than an alligator. So he 
flew right along after the King, whose royal robes lay 
on the air like a table-cloth. The King thought if he 
could only run up the mountain, the elephant's weight 
would tell on him so that he would be obliged to 
abandon the chase. Of course the King did not know 
of the elephant's power to lose flesh at will, or he 
would have pursued a different method. So when 
he started up the side of the Head-cheese Mountain 
he felt that he would shortly be out of his pursuer's 
reach. This thought was quickly dissipated when he 
looked around and saw the elephant reduced to the 
proportions of a greyhound, and coming after him like 
the wind. 

Finally the King, in his great effort to escape, 
stumbled, and instead of arising and struggling on, 
sat perfectly still, so great was his exhaustion. And 


the elephant stood still, too ; for he had to catch the 
King flying, or not at all. The elephant could not 
move unless the King moved, and as soon as the 
Kino- was aware of that, he continued to sit still until 


he could summon assistance. But before he could do 
so, all the land of Head-cheese came to life ; that is, it 
was all restored to its original condition of pighood. 
The pigs all ran around and shrieked, because the 
pepper and spices of the head-cheese were in their 
systems, and caused them great pain. So great was 
this pain that they determined to avenge themselves 
on the King. 

But they could go no nearer to him than the ele- 
phant did ; and, unlike the elephant, they could not 
sit or lie down, because the spices and peppers k<?pt 
them dancing about in ecstasies of anguish and de- 
spair. The King thought he could escape when the 
elephant went away to get something to eat ; but in 
this he was mistaken. When the elephant got hun- 
gry, the head would go hopping down into the valley 
alone, and fill the trunk with fodder, and take it back 
where the body was on guard to eat it. Then the 
head and body would remain on guard while the legs 
went off to take some exercise. All the while the 
body would exercise itself by violently wagging the 
tail, which it could snap like a whip. 

The King made up his mind that he would run for 
the palace, but found that he could not arise, because 
his feet were asleep, and would probably remain so for 
a month. So he thought he would lie down and go 
to sleep himself; which he did, only to have another 
dream that he was a tall lily growing in a deserted 
garden, and that his wife was another lily much whiter 
than himself growing on the same stem. The breezes 

An elephant tuas right on his track. 


caused them to kiss, and they were perfectly happy, 
wedded in the sunshine. They saw themselves re- 
flected in each other's faces when they were bright 
with dew-drops, and knew that they would die to- 
gether when the stalk withered, and that neither would 
have to mourn the other. So, when the stalk was 
frozen, the shock was so great that the King awoke 
into his first dream, and was face to face with the 
elephant ; and so he sat until he was awakened by the 
whir of the Wax Tapir. 

" I have got to go through all that," said the King. 
"Even though I am a King, I cannot escape the dream 
that comes out of the Little Wax Dream - maker's 

Before the Prose Bear, the Lyric Bear, or Tommy 
Hawk could make any comments, or offer any sym- 
pathy, the Little Wax Dream-maker tossed a lovely 
yellow flower into the air. They all waited to see 
what the Queen's dream was to be. But when the 
flower turned to descend, it burst, and no picture 
came out of it. 

" What does that mean ?" inquired Tommy. 

" It means," said the Prose Bear, " that the Queen 
is not going to have any dream. She is going to have 
the peaceful, refreshing, undisturbed sleep that closes 
the eyelids of the good." 

The King was so provoked at the prospect of a six 
months' dream such as came out of the Little Wax 
Dream-maker's flower that the Prose Bear suggested 
that they ramble around Waxland for a while, in the 
hope of putting the King in a better humor. 

" Are not we going to see the Wax Dolphin ?" Tom- 
my inquired. 

" Yes," said the Prose Bear ; " but she will not ap- 


pear for a couple of months yet not until darkness 
sets in, and the Great Wax or Moon Sea shines like a 
silver plain. At that time the Wa~ Dolphin will swim 
about singing a lullaby, and waving a branch of wax 
poppies to put all Waxland to sleep." 

Just at this moment they came upon a clump of 
flowers that disappeared suddenly in the ground as 
though drawn down by elastic strands. 

" THOSE," said the Prose Bear, indicating with his 
paw the flowers whose sudden retreat from sight had 
attracted Tommy's attention " those are wax sensitive 
plants. They are so sensitive that they can't bear to 
be looked at, so when any one appears they fly right 
into the ground, and remain there until all sounds have 
died away. If we were to stand here a week those 
sensitive plants would remain underground all the time. 
I once drove a lot of wax sensitive plants into the 
ground, and then stole softly away. They didn't hear 
me move off, and when I passed the spot a day or two 
ago they had not reappeared. They probably think I 
am standing there yet." 

" What kind of a bird is that ?" asked Tommy, as he 
noticed a specimen that could shoot its neck out to 
almost any length. It would sit on the ground and 
look at a wax pear growing twenty feet above ; then it 
would gradually stretch its neck forth, and it would 
lengthen and lengthen until the bird's bill came in con- 
tact with the pear, which it plucked and drew back. It 
seemed strange where all the neck could go to. There 
didn't seem to be bird enough to contain it. After they 
had looked at it for a while the bird gradually thrust 
its head forth until it reached a limb some thirty feet 
above. It took hold of this limb with its bill, and grad- 
ually drew itself up until it sat contentedly on the tree. 


This movement was so grotesque that not one of 
the party could refrain from laughing. 

" I should feel very sorry for that bird if it should 
ever get a throat trouble," said Tommy ; " for it would 
have such an awful area of throat to take care of." 

They all laughed at this, and the Prose Bear asked 
Tommy as a personal favor not to let any such chance 
slip to arouse the King, as it would tend to cheer him 
up and make him forget the horrible dream that he 
was so shortly to have. Tommy promised the Prose 
Bear to do all in his power to amuse the King, and to 
try to find places in the conversation where he could 
wedge in a joke or a pleasantry. 

Then the queer bird swung down from the limb and 
commenced rocking to and fro like a pendulum. 
Sometimes it would swing all the way around. And 
it stretched its neck a little, and, taking a good aim, 
knocked a wax monkey off another limb and frightened 
him half out of his wits. 

The Lyric Bear seemed greatly amused at the dis- 
comfiture of the poor Wax Monkey, and at the airy 
way in which the bird kept swinging round and round. 

" Oh, I'd rather be a donkey 

In the south of sunny Spain, 
Than a sugar-coated monkey 
On an organ-grinder's chain." 

Bang! The queer bird had lengthened his neck, 
and cut the Lyric Bear's rhapsody short by coming so 
swiftly in contact with his jaw that, before he knew 
it, he swallowed his smile, and looked as woe-begone 
as a black cat in a snow-storm. They all laughed 
heartily, and thought it a splendid joke on the poor 
Lyric Bear to have his hilarity cut short when it was 


at the expense of another's suffering. And in this 
langh they were joined by the Wax Monkey himself. 

" What is the name of this telescopic bird ?" Tommy 

" He has no name," said the King, " because no one 
has yet thought of one that fits him." 

" How would the Whirlaway Bird do, on account of 
his great whirling powers?" 

" First-rate," said the King ; " we shall hereafter call 
him the Whirlaway Bird." 

The Lyric Bear was told to announce the fact from 
one end of Waxland to the other, which he did in the 
following lines : 


" Oli, say, have you heard 
Of the Whirlaway Bird ? 

It's a bird of the mountain and sea. 
It's like rubber all through, 
To which fact it is due 

It can stretch till it looks round a tree. 

" On the mosses it struts, 
While it gathers the nuts 

In the sun on the very top limbs. 
Oft it whirls through the sky 
With a doleful ' ki yi !' 

And it never takes cold when it swims. 

" Like a ball it will bound 
When it lights on the ground, 

Then its neck stretches forth like a staff, 
Till it seems in one's eyes, 
All through sudden surprise, 

Like an ornithologic giraffe. 

" When the night curtain drops, 
Then its wild whirling stops, 


And it drifts upon winglets care -free 
To a slumber profound, 
In its neck snugly wound, 

At the top of the wild rubber- tree." 

They were then attracted to the "NVhirlaway Bird by 
his increasing the speed of his revolutions to such an 
extent that he could be heard but not seen. Suddenly 
the whirring stopped, and they saw its author about 
two hundred feet above the tree. It had lost its grip, 
and was shot almost out of sight, where it spread its 
wings and floated swiftly away. 

Just as the Whirlaway Bird had entirely disappeared 
Tommy shouted, 

" Oh, hear the music !" 

" That is the music of the wax band," said the Prose 
Bear. " Did you ever hear wax music before ?" 

" Xever," replied Tommy ; " and I think it very 
lovely in spite of its greasy sound. But what is it 
playing for?" 

" For the wax dolls to dance to," said the Prose 
Bear. " They are having a holiday and a picnic." 

So the whole party sat down and watched the dolls, 
as soon as they were near enough to gain a good view. 

It was remarkable to Tommy, who had never before 
enjoyed the novelty of seeing wax dolls dance, to ob- 
serve how gracefully they moved about. They danced 
on a smooth wax floor, and the wax band played in a 
pretty wax pagoda. No two of them were dressed 
alike, and they all looked so lovely that the society re- 
porter must have been sorely puzzled to do every one . 
justice. Although it was daytime, they had their 
floor surrounded by burning wax candles to justify 
their evening dress. 

After they had danced for a long time the musicians 


played a march, and each little wax gentleman doll 
took a pretty little wax lady doll on his arm, and they 
filed away from the dancing floor to the refreshment 

The King's forthcoming dream began to weigh 
heavily upon him again, and the Prose Bear knew that 
something would have to be done very quickly to 
drive the impression away. So he conveyed his mean- 
ing to the Lyric Bear, who suddenly burst forth : 


" Oli, once we had a sleepy stork, 

And he was full of songs ; 

We used to make his airy legs 

Serve for a pair of tongs. 

" He'd clean the ashes neatly up 

With both his wings, and make 
His bill a poker, and the coals 
Red hot he'd rake and shake. 

"He'd pick pins out of cracks at will 

In manner strangely droll 
He'd oft eclipse a pair of shears 
Biting a button-hole. 

" From crannies he would often fetch 

The ancient burglar rat 
Upon one foot he'd often stand, 
In t'other hold his hat. 

"Upon the lawn he killed himself 

Through eating by mistake 
The garden hose, which seemed to him 
An ordinary snake." 

At the conclusion the King clapped his hands with 
delight and the Queen smiled, although she didn't 


hear a word of it. The Lyric Bear was so happy that 
he burst into a reel, and danced until he was footsore 
and weary. Completely out of breath, he sat down on 
the wax sward. All the rest sat down to rest while he 
was resting. After they were all seated, a voice came 
from the wax thicket. It was a sweet, musical voice, 
and it said, " May I come and sit down there and rest 
with you ?" 

" Certainly," they replied. 

There was a gentle flutter, and a fair lithe spirit in 
pearly robes alighted among them. She had soft white 
skin and softer blue eyes, and her hair was long and 
golden, and had anemones and wild roses tangled in 
its shining meshes. 

" Who are you ?" asked the King, pleasantly. 

" I am the Summer Wind," she replied, modestly. 

" And how did you come here ?" she was asked. 

" I was on my way through a wood some distance 
from here when I fell asleep on a spray of clematis, 
and, while asleep, floated away from my fragrant 
cradle, and awoke to find myself drifting down a candy 
staircase. I sailed across a great sea of pansies, and 
finally found myself here." 

" Don't you tire of wandering aimlessly about ?" 

" Oh, my, no ; I never grow tired of my roving ca- 
reer ; but it is not aimless. My duty is to wait on the 
summer all the year round. It is never summer every- 
where at once, and after I blow the flowers open in 
one latitude I fly to a more northerly one to open the 
flowers there. Grow tired ? Why, I don't know what 
it is to be weary. I laugh in the rustling tree ; I 
sleep on the rippling waters ; my play-ground is on 
the bosom of the ocean, and the fleecy cloud is my 

R.feJr lithe spirit in pearly robes alfghled 


"Where did you come from just now?" asked the 

" I am just back from a tour of China, the land of 
tea-roses. I lingered there, in gardens shaded by 
mulberry-trees, until all the flowers were in bloom, and 
then I went skimming across the sea to New Mexico, 
gathering and dispensing spice along the way. When- 
ever I rested on the sea the ships had to stand still. 
Whenever there is a calm at sea you may know I 
am either dreaming or elsewhere ; and when you 
see the trees perfectly motionless it means that I 
am off on some lake dancing about from one lily to 

" There is a wax ^Eolian harp attached to the 
Queen's palanquin," said the Prose Bear. 

The Summer Wind rose from the ground and began 
moving through the harp between and around the 
strings, and the loveliest music floated out upon the 
air. The gentle spirit smiled as she saw how keenly 
her music was appreciated. Only when she passed 
through the harp could it be seen that she was air, 
because the strings went right through her. 

" I wish you would get tangled in that harp," said 
the King, " and never be able to get out, for then I 
should lead a happier life, soothed by your pensive, 
dreamy strains." 

The Summer Wind then flew out of the harp. 

"What now?" asked the King. 

" I must away," said the Summer Wind, in reply 
" I must away to a latitude far north of this, where 
many a field of flowers is waiting to be kissed into 
blossom. Farewell !" 

Before they could say anything to the Summer 
Wind she had risen quite a distance above the ground, 


and as she was passing away she smiled and threw a 
spray of white clematis to them. 

" May I come over there and sit down with you-f 
came from another thicket. 

" You may," was the unanimous reply. 

In an instant a great burly, rough spirit, gray-blue 
in color, with icicles for hair and beard, and a sword 
of ice, floated in and sat down. 

" Who are you ?" asked the Prose Bear. 

" I am the Winter Wind. I am the little gentleman 
that cuts your face like a country barber, and makes 
your ears blaze like a pair of pickled red -peppers. 
Whew !" 

This last syllable was a gust of wind blown from his 
mouth to show his quality. He blew out all the burn- 
ing wax candles on a tree fifty feet distant, and took 
all the wax feathers off a wax turkey that was on the 
topmost limb. The turkey was plucked as neatly as 
though the operation had been performed by hand. 

" Oh, I tell you," continued the Winter Wind, as he 
drew his ice sword across his nose a few times to see 
that the edge was keen, " I am the old original Winter 
Wind ! I am no small breeze or zephyr. I lift trees 
from the ground by the roots; I move houses miles 
without letting them touch the ground, and sometimes, 
for a joke, I blow a ship out of the water and leave 
it 'way up on a mountaintop." Here he ran his fin- 
gers through his icicle hair and beard. " I just do 
this to keep my hands cool," he explained. " I wish 
I had a nice refrigerator to take a sleep in. I am 
afraid that if I stay around here much longer I shall 
melt into a zephyr, and spend the rest of my days loll- 
ing about in sunny garden nooks, and be the com- 
panion of bees and butterflies." 


He was then told about the yEolian harp, to take his 
mind off the subject of his being melted. In an instant 
he was going through the harp just as the Summer 
Wind had done. But the effect was entirely different. 
Instead of the gentle, dreamy music of the Summer 
Wind, the harp gave out the doleful wail of the Win- 
ter Wind across icy leas and through the leafless for- 
est. The harp moaned and sobbed, until finally its 
strings snapped, and the surly Winter Wind rattled 
his icicle hair and beard and floated a short distance 
in the air. 

" I shall be in Greenland to-night," said he, with a 
breath that made them all chilly, "and if I don't see 
you again, farewell." 

He then flew far up in the air, and in a moment 
there was a wax snow-storm. And it was the grand- 
est and prettiest snow-storm that Tommy had ever 
seen. The flakes were as large as daisies, and very 
much the same shape, and as they fluttered through 
the air the effect was very pleasant. This was owing 
very largely to the fact that the falling flakes were of 
different colors, and as they came down so thick and 
fast they looked like flowers of silk of the most deli- 
cate tints. Already the ground was covered, and the 
sight was dazzling beyond description. 

" How far off is night now ?" asked the King, sud- 

" Three weeks," replied the Prose Bear. 

" Then let us return to the shore of the Great Wax 
or Moon Sea, and await the gathering shadows and the 
spiritual lullaby of the Wax Dolphin." 


AFTER the King's command that they return to the 
shores of the Great Wax or Moon Sea, they all arose 
to obey him. At the suggestion of the Prose Bear it 
was decided that they should return in a different 
direction, as new sights would no doubt cause the 
King to brood less upon the subject of the dream that 
was now only three ordinary weeks, or fifteen Waxland 
minutes, distant. 

So they wended their steps to the banks of the Wax 
River, that flowed in a circuitous course, and ended 
only a short distance from one end of the Great Wax 
Sea. As the river was only a short distance, it took 
little time to reach its banks. It was a lovely sight to 
see the little wax houses, white as snow, standing back 
a hundred feet or so from the river, surrounded by 
twinkling green fields, and canopied by cloudless blue 
skies. The pastoral charm of the scene was heightened 
by the songs of birds and the mellow murmur of the 
Wax River. Little wax boys were bathing in the river 
when they should properly have been in school pre- 
paring themselves to become respectable Waxlanders. 

The music of the King's feet announced his com- 
ing, and long before he was at the riverside the banks 
were alive with his subjects. The King had a small 
floating wax palace on the river, that he might take a 
sail when he felt in the mood for an airing. 


It was only a short time before they were on board 
and in the middle of the stream, sailing listlessly with 
the tide. As they drifted along, the wax farmers ran 
down to the banks to cheer, and the wax cattle looked 
up from their monotonous surrounding, tossed their 
heads in the air, and looked upon the strange sight 
with large-eyed wonder. 

An occasional flock of sheep and a windmill ap- 
pealed to the artistic sympathies of the Wax King, and 
Tommy himself said that he had never before seen 
anything imbued with and breathing such a languid 
spiritual beauty. 

The sail was altogether too delightful and charming 
for description. 

At length, in the distance, Tommy saw a pale, white, 
indistinct plain, and asked what it was. 

" That," said the Prose Bear, " is the Great Wax or 
Moon Sea. The sun is getting low, the shadows of 
wax twilight are beginning to gather, and it is just 
gray enough to make the sea faintly visible. As it 
grows darker, the Moon Sea becomes brighter, until it 
glistens like frosted silver." 

" Oh, that's the way the Moon Sea glows 
When on Waxland its rays it throws ; 
Like wax rain strands from the bright wax sky 
Oh, give me a piece of cranberry pie." 

warbled the Lyric Bear, who was simply beside him- 
self with joy. 

"Are there any fish in the Wax River?" Tommy asked. 

" Oh my, yes !" replied the Prose Bear. " It is full 
of fish and rocks, just like any other river, except that 
the fish and stones are wax, but a different kind of 
wax from the river itself that they may not blend. 


The ocean, you know, is full of sponge, but Wax River 
is full of sponge-cake." 

" Let's get some !" exclaimed Tommy, rapturously. 

A hook was lowered into the water and a lot of 
sponge-cake was brought up. They all ate heartily 
of it except Tommy. He had never tasted wax sponge- 
cake before, and concluded from his first experience 
that a fondness for it must be an acquired taste. 

" Oh, we're going to run aground," said Tommy. 

" Excuse me," replied the Prose Bear, with a smile ; 
" you should say run awax." 

Tommy smiled in spite of his fear. And what was 
his surprise to see the floating wax palace run right 
up the bank, and continue up one side of a hill and 
down the other. What surprised him most was the 
fact that the floating wax palace did not increase its 
speed going downhill. It descended the steepest de- 
clivity at precisely the same rate that it would have 
ascended it. And another peculiar thing was that no 
one in the floating wax palace ever lost his balance 
for a moment. The pictures on the walls did not 
swing, the furniture did not move, and if it were not 
for the windows every passenger would have believed 
he was sailing on the level. 

" It seems very funny," Tommy said at length, " that 
this ship should run uphill. How does it do it?" 
j " With wheels," replied the Prose Bear, solemnly. 
" It has a number of wheels underneath that propel it 
on the Wax River; and although it is considered 
highly improper to question any of the subtle myste- 
ries of Waxland, yet I feel justified in telling you that 
it is a popular belief here that the river winds the 
machinery up, and revolves the wheels at such a rate 
that they keep going for several days after the float- 


ing wax palace is out of it. The best wax authorities 
hold this theory, which, in spite of elaboration and 
argument, is still only a theory and nothing more. Do 
I make myself quite clear to you ?" 

" Oh, perfectly, perfectly," said Tommy. 

" That being the case," continued the Prose Bear, 
referring to the floating wax palace, "it keeps running 
right along at the same rate of speed, and I don't sup- 
pose it is possible for it to stop until it runs down 
like a clock ; and then I don't think you can get out 
of it until it stops, and of course it stops-abruptly." 

This all seemed so strange to Tommy that he almost 
fancied that the old Prose Bear was simply joking. 
But this impression he could not continue to enter- 
tain, because the honesty imprinted on every feature 
of the Bear's face made it impossible to believe for a 
moment that he could be guilty of such a thing. 

The shadows continued to gather, and in the dis- 
tance the light of the Great Wax Sea could be seen 
reflected against the sky. 

" I hope we shall be in time to see the Wax Dol- 
phin," said Tommy. 

" I don't think you will be disappointed," replied 
the Prose Bear. He was going to say something 
more, but the floating wax palace suddenly came to 
the shore of the Moon Sea, and went rolling down 
towards that part of the wax amphitheatre where the 
King and Queen had their royal seats. 

But when the floating wax palace reached this spot 
it would not stop. It was plain to all that they would 
have to remain contented in their present situation 
until it came to a stand-still. 

The King, seeing their predicament, ordered the 
floating wax palace to be sent whirling around the 


roadway that bordered the Great Wax Sea the road 
around which they had seen the wax storks madly 
race for the jewelled crown of Storkdom. 

The floating wax palace kept whirling around and 
around, and it was truly a beautiful sight. The Great 
Wax Sea looked like a sheet of silver fire, which it 
really was. But the heat of it could not be felt ex- 
cept when it was touched ; and certain birds, like the 
stork, on being crowned, could not feel the heat of it. 
But if that stork once returned after rising from its 
surface, he would be burned in an instant. For this rea- 
son the floating wax palace was not headed into the 
Great Wax Sea. As it was growing quite dark, they 
all began to listen for the lullaby of the Wax Dolphin. 
Presently they heard the following 


" Come, oh, sleep, so sweet and rosy, 

Close our eyelids softly now, 
As the night wind shuts the posy, 
When the bird is on the bough. 

" Lead us to your mystic bower, 

Where the soothing poppy grows, 
Where bright visions brightly flower, 
Shedding fragrance like a rose. 

"Wave your wand, and lead us thither, 

Where white lily hedges wreathe 
Pleasant hills whose charms ne'er wither, 
Where JBolian zephyrs breathe. 

"Wave o'er us your downy tresses, 

Breathe on us your breath so sweet, 
And with all your coy caresses 
Lead our tired and wearv feet. 


"Wave your hyaciuthine pinion 
That we all may glide away 
To that roseate dominion 

Where it's brighter far than day." 

As the last syllables died away like a bird song, the 
Wax Dolphin could be seen gliding languidly about 
on the bosom of the Great Wax Sea, waving a wreath 
of poppies. Tommy noticed the King begin to yawn, 
while the Queen had to rub her eyes to keep awake. 
The motion of the floating wax palace seemed to keep 
them all from falling asleep. Tommy and the two 
bears, not being made of wax, were, of course, not sus- 
ceptible to the witcheries of the luxurious Wax Dol- 
phin. And they enjoyed it all very much. 

" What was that sound ?" asked Tommy. 

" It was some clumsy lop - sided bird," said the 
Prose Bear, " that fell asleep and lost its balance. It 
may have fallen fifty feet, but it will never wake up 
until to-morrow morning, which is six months distant 
from the present moment." 

The King grew sleepier and sleepier, and so did the 
Queen, and the floating wax palace began to lose its 
speed, or, as the Prose Bear put it, "the speed was 
fading gradually out of the wheels." 

So they headed it for the wax palace of Waxem, 
and, strange as it may appear, the wheels fell asleep 
directly in front of the palace door. 

The Queen was borne up the steps by the two bears 
for every one else in Waxland was asleep and left 
in her palanquin in a sumptuous bower that invited 
rest. When they came back to take the King to his 
couch, he jumped away from them and ran. 

He was sound asleep, but still he ran and ran, and it 
was impossible to overtake him. 


They could hear the music very distinctly, but that 
was no clew to his whereabouts, because it sounded no 
louder one foot off than it did at a distance of twenty 

" It was his dream that frightened him into a run,'' 
said the Prose Bear, " and it is my opinion that he is 
now running for dear life, with the elephant at his 

Whenever the music of his feet stopped they knew 
he was resting. Sometimes it would stop for a min- 
ute, and then by its time they could tell that he was 
redoubling his efforts to put more space between him- 
self and the hated elephant. 

"From Waxland I must take my flight, 
I must depart when falls the night," 

sang the Lyric Bear. 

The Prose Bear wept. " Now I have got to go back 
to that wax-doll eye department, and wait for you to 
return a long wait of six weary months." 

" Ti.s even so, 'tis even so, 
But why it is I hardly know," 

replied the Lyric Bear. 

Then the Lyric Bear took Tommy by one hand, and 
the Prose Bear took him by the other, and they danced 
very gracefully along to the rippling melody of the 
King's feet. 

When after a while they came near the field of pan- 
sies they saw the King running just as fast as he could 
put his feet on the ground. It was useless to try to 
catch him, because he would have the dream anywhere, 
and it would be impossible to wake him up. The Prose 
Bear's idea was to melt him, and remould him in the 

! ^f^^yxxj^ =*5{s5^ 


"(Shey saur (he kinc^ running as 


fast s& he could 


morning ; but the Lyric Bear thought such an opera- 
tion might prove injurious, so it was abandoned. 

" He runs beautifully," said the Prose Bear, with ad- 

" Yes," replied Tommy ; " but the race is really 
spoiled by not being able to see the elephant." 

" There isn't any elephant," said the Prose Bear. 

" Then why does the King run ?" 

" To get away from the elephant," replied the Prose 
Bear, with some asperity. 

"But you just said there was no elephant," responded 
Tommy, timidly. 

"And I say so still," said the Prose Bear. " When 
I say there is no elephant, I mean there is none in 
reality. And when I say there is an elephant, I of 
course allude to the elephant that the King imagines 
is after him, or rather the elephant that exists only in 
his dream." 

"Thank you very much," murmured Tommy, "for 
your kind and lucid explanation. It is all as clear as 
day to me now. I trust you do not think I was trying 
to chaff you. To treat you with anything but the 
greatest politeness, Mr. Prose Bear, after the extreme 
kindness you have shown me would be unpardonable 
on my part." 

" Not at all, not at all, Tommy," said the Prose Bear; 
" and I pray you will kindly excuse me for my seeming 
impoliteness. I was a little put out over the dilemma 
of the poor King." 

At the pansy meadow Tommy and the Lyric Bear 
shook hands with the Prose Bear, and left him watch- 
ing that beautiful wax-doll eye department. 

Then the Lyric Bear took Tommy on his back, and 
waded across the river on the frontier of Waxland, just 


as he had done on the occasion of their entrance into 
that wonderful domain of his Wax Majesty Waxem. 

Once on the other side of the river, it was only a 
few steps to the winding candy staircase. Up this 
they ran, and were soon outside the huge sycamore 

" Good-bye, good-bye, Mr. Lyric Bear," said Tommy, 
when the Lyric Bear had led him to the hill overlook- 
ing the house from which he had shortly before wan- 
dered as a Suppawnee Indian, only to be lost. " Good- 
bye, good-bye," he repeated, shaking the good Lyric 
Bear warmly by the hand. 

And the Lyric Bear, visibly affected, replied: 

"Good-bye now, and be such a good little boy 
That your actions will e'er fill your mother with joy." 



}OMMY BIGGENS was about the happiest 
boy in all the country. His heart was as 
light as thistle-down, and his thoughts 
as merry as the songs of the birds that 
hopped about in the densely shaded trees 
of the garden. Tommy's happiness was such that he 
was indulgent to his little sister, and failed to take ad- 
vantage of every opportunity offered to decorate her 
doll's face with paints ; for although he had a nice little 
tin box full, the color of the doll's face seemed to him 
sufficiently true to nature, and he gave the box of 
paints to his sister to use in decorating shells. 

And he was kind to the cat too not only the fam- 
ily cat, but the cat of his next-door neighbor. Not a 
stone was thrown at the vagrant dog that looked im- 
ploringly at him through the fence, as though inquiring 
if such a thing as a bed or a bone could be given him. 
Tommy's happiness was due to the fact that school 
had just closed for the annual summer vacation. His 
books were packed away in the closet for eight weeks, 
and Tommy was in a state of joy that would not be 


anything like fully appreciated until looked back to 
from old age. 

Tommy had won the prize offered to the boy who 
should stand highest in his class at the breaking up of 
school, and for this record he was to receive from his 
father a cedar canoe just large enough for one person. 
The canoe had been promised Tommy about the mid- 
dle of the previous winter, when the snow was lying 
deep upon the ground, and the biting winds were 
moaning through the trees. Although a canoe offered 
no great inducement at that season, Tommy studied as 
hard as though a toboggan had been the coveted re- 

Great was the envy of Tommy's companions when 
he brought them in to see the canoe, which was lying 
on the back stoop, glittering with an oily polish. Tom- 
my had never owned a canoe before, but he had pad- 
dled about in one at a small mountain lake where the 
family had been during the previous summer, so that 
there was little danger of his capsizing. A number of 
his companions helped him carry the frail craft back 
to the lake in the woods, as they were anxious to see 
him embark. 

They all clapped their hands and waved their hats 
and shouted as Tommy pushed off from shore, and 
dipped the paddle into the water, first on one side 
and then on the other, and made the canoe shoot along 
like an arrow. He paddled up and down for some 
time, while his companions shouted suggestions from 
the shore. 

Finally he told them that he would go across the 
lake, and paddle into the cave, the entrance of which 
was screened by the foliage of some birches that grew 
down in profusion from overhanging crags, until they 


dipped into the lake. No one around there had ever 
been prompted by curiosity to enter this cavern, and 
consequently no one knew anything about it. There 
was a story current that it had once been the hiding- 
place of a robber band, and that they had a sort of 
stair-way running up under the mountain which they 
had hollowed out like a snow-house. It was likewise 
said that there was gold hidden there in great quan- 
tities, but no one had ever seen fit to explore the place, 
and nothing was absolutely known to confirm the 

So when Tommy said he was going to paddle across 
to the cave his companions were happy beyond meas- 
ure, as they felt sure he was about to solve a long-con- 
sidered mystery, and come back with a story that would 
be good enough to print. Besides, if he got any of 
the gold, he was going to buy each of the boys a canoe, 
a base-ball, a pair of skates, and all the candy and gin- 
gerbread he could eat for a month. His sister was 
also to have a new doll that could walk and wink, and 
when once wound up, go for eight days like a clock. 

As he paddled across he could no longer hear the 
voices of his companions, but when he turned he could 
see them waving their hats on the shore. At length 
he reached the trees that grew down over the mouth 
of the cave, and placing the paddle in the bottom of 
the canoe, took hold of the branches, and peered 
through. He could see the cave, but nothing inside. 
It was simply a great black hole about as large as the 
mouth of a hogshead. He pulled on the limbs to send 
the prow of the canoe up to the land, where he intended 
to disembark and enter the cave afoot. But, much to 
his surprise, the prow of the canoe came in contact 
with nothing, but drifted right into the cave. 


Tommy lay down in the canoe, that he might not 
bump his head against any jagged bit of rock hanging 
from the roof of the cave. It was pitch-dark ; even 
the light whicbs had just a moment before shone 
through the entrance of the cavern no more glistened 
on the water, and when Tommy sat up and looked 
about him he could not even see the opening by 
which he had entered. He sat still for a few minutes, 
and then lighted a match to see where he was. He 
simply found himself in an underground passage that 
seemed to have no beginning and no end. As he 
was thinking of the best means of returning to the 
lake, he was seized with fright, for he could not tell in 
which direction the entrance lay, or how many times 
he had turned round. Again he struck a match, and 
as soon as it lighted up the passage-way he saw by the 
surrounding objects that he was moving, and that he 
was simply drifting on an underground river. 

In his fright he had just enough presence of mind 
left to lie in the canoe and float along. The thing he 
dreaded most was the canoe being smashed on some 
rock, but still he knew that it would keep in the mid- 
dle of the stream, in the current, and that if it did run 
aground, of course it would have to be in shallow 
water. Then the thought dawned upon him that the 
water might not be over a foot deep, and if that were 
the case he could get out and wade back with the canoe 
on his shoulders. He concluded that the lake emptied 
into the river, and that the walk or wade could not be 
a very long one, so he dipped his paddle into the water 
to find bottom. In this he was unsuccessful, and that 
settled the wading question. 

On, on he drifted through the darkness, until he fell 
asleep. When he awoke, he couldn't tell how long he 



had slept, but still he was sailing along with the tide, 
at what rate and in what direction he knew not. 

He could think of nothing that was pleasant. Ev- 
ery moment he thought the stream might fall in a 
cascade, and if he went over one of them, it would he 
the last of him. But there was no cataract, and the 
canoe kept on in the middle of the stream, running 
straight or serpentinely ; and just as he had aban- 
doned all hope of ever seeing the light of day again, 
he caught a ray about a hundred feet ahead. Perhaps 
it would bring him out in another part of the lake 
from which he entered. At any rate, he would be 
out of the subterranean river, and that in itself was 
enough to look forward to. In another moment he 
shot out of darkness, and into a broad, placid brook 
that ran through a luxurious valley, surrounded by 
mountains that seemed to run almost straight into the 
air, and over which it seemed it must be impossible to 

The underground river seemed to be the only en- 
trance, and Tommy felt sure that he would find nothing 
but animals and birds for companions. As he stepped 
ashore, and pulled the canoe up after him, he heard a 
peculiar strain of strange music, which seemed to be 
hummed rather than sung, and he crawled up softly to 
look around the corner of a rock a few yards away to 
get a glimpse of the vocalist. 


As Tommy Biggens crawled up to the rock and 
looked around it, he was somewhat surprised. The 
creature that was humming the grotesque melody was 
a great unwieldy thing that looked like a wild beast with 
human intelligence. He was lead-colored, and could 
walk either upon four or two legs. His face was a 
most good-natured one, his cheeks ruddy with good 
living, and his eyes were soft and kindly, and seemed 
full of merriment, as though he was thinking over 
some hy-gone event that pleased him. 

He wore nothing but a white high hat, which, 
queerly enough, had a mourning band around it. This 
hat gave him the air of being civilized, and Tommy 
was a little astonished when he saw him throw the hat 
off with a backward jerk of the head and catch it on 
his tail, and then throw it back with his tail and catch 
it on his head. He did this several times, and his 
skill was so great that he could perform the feat with- 
out thinking of what he was doing. 

Tommy was so astonished that he forgot to hide 
himself, and was seen. He attempted to get back to 
his canoe as rapidly as possible, but the strange animal 
shouted, " You needn't be afraid of me ;" so Tommy 
stood. " Who are you, little boy ?" asked the strange 

" I'm Tommy Biggens. Who are you ?" 



" I ?" replied the strange animal, laughing at the 
boy's ignorance. " I am the Hurrishoffer, King of this 
beautiful valley of Hurrishofferonia." 

Then Tommy told him his adventure. The good- 
natured King said he was truly sorry for him, as there 
was no way of getting out of the valley except by the 
underground river, and that was impossible. He also 
assured him that he would be well taken care of, and 
that made Tommy feel a little better. 

They finally came to a pool in which a fish was 
sunning himself very near the surface. 

" Good-morning, Mr. Fish !" said Tommy, politely, 
thinking that as his entertainer could talk, probably 
the fish could also. 

" There's no use talking English to that fish," ob- 
served the Hurrishoffer. 

" Why not ?" asked Tommy. 

" Because he's a Spanish mackerel, and only under- 
stands Castilian." 

While Tommy stood silent in surprise the Hurri- 
shoffer went on, " A Welsh rabbit over the hill yonder 
used to recite a piece in Welsh called by a name that 
I can't remember, but which sounded like Irish linen 
being torn." 

" I'd like to hear it," said Tommy. 

" You never will," replied the King. " The last time 
he did it we killed him. Do you understand any dead 

" Some," replied Tommy, hardly knowing what he 

" I will see how much you know. We will take 
the opening lines of Virgil ' Arma virumque cano,' 
etc. Now, then, let me see you put that into smoked 


" I can't do it," replied Tommy, with a puzzled air. 

" I admire your frankness," said the King. 

They walked on a little way, when Tommy noticed 
large bunches of fruit growing on a tree. " Are those 
bananas?" he asked. 

" No, they're sausages. Who ever saw lavender 
bananas ?" 

" What kind of a tree is it ?" asked Tommy. 

" A dogwood," replied the King, with dignity. 

Then he thought a moment, and anticipated Tommy 
by saying, " If you get off any joke on bark in connec- 
tion with it, your life will be drawn speedily to a close." 

" These trees must be very scarce and rare," said 

" Scarce and rare !" mused the King. 

"Aren't scarce and rare alike ?" asked Tommy. 

" Not always," responded the King. " You like rare 
beef, don't you ?" 


" Well, how do you like scarce beef ?" 

Tommy was silent. 

" Did you ever wear an official seal-skin cap ?" 

" Never." 

" Were you ever in the Land of Green Cheese ?" 

" Never," replied Tommy. 

They walked on some distance together, and finally 
Tommy asked, " Where are we going?" 

"Home," replied the Hurrishoffer ; "and you shall 
have a nice time in my Candy Garden and Food Orchard. 
But don't ask me any questions just now ; it will be a 
pleasant little surprise for you. To-morrow will be 
my birthday, and all Hurrishofferonia will be on hand, 
and if we don't have a fine old time, then all I have to 
say is that I am no Hurrishoffer at all." 


" How old will you be, pray, good Mr. Hurrishoffer ?" 
asked Tommy, in great delight. 

"I shall be one hundred and eighty -four. But 
don't call me Mr. Hurrishoffer ; just plain Hurrishof- 
fer, like a good little boy." 

Tommy promised, and walked on with the King. 
Presently they met a thin young man, who looked like 
a stork, except that he had arms and very long hair, and 
a flowing purple necktie hanging down on his chest. 

" Who is that singular person ?" asked Tommy. 

"He is my poet -laureate. He celebrates in verse 
all the peculiar happenings in Hurrishofferonia. He 
wrote a most charming ode when I celebrated the one- 
hundredth anniversary of my birth. He also writes 
other pieces for his own amusement, and to entertain 
us on fete days." 

" What pay does he get a penny a line ?" 

" Oh no," responded the Hurrishoffer ; " he gets a 
penny a word, which rate of payment gives him his 

" And what is his name, pray ?" 

"His name is Penny -a -Wordsworth. Good-day, 
Penny-a- Wordsworth," said the Hurrishoffer. " What 
in the world were you laughing at so hard as we ap- 
proached ?" 

" At a little poem I have just composed." 

" Just read it to us, please." 

So Penny-a- Wordsworth drew himself up proudly, 
and in the most artistic style read : 


" One summer we owned a moscow, 

With a coat as fine as silk, 
And every night and morning 
She gave ten quarts of milk. 


" Her horns like ivory glistened, 

Her eyes were large and bright, 
And she was an omelet yellow 
Wherever she wasn't white. 

" The funny part of the story 

Is what you'd never guess: 

The moscow began to dwindle, 

In size grew less and less, 

" Until she was even smaller 
Than any new-born veal, 
And we thought that if we killed her 
She'd only make one meal. 

"And the ten quarts night and morning, 

Mentioned when I commenced, 
Unto a half -pint dwindled 
A half-pint but condensed.'' 

" The idea," said the Hurrishoffer, " is that the cow, 
being gradually condensed in size herself, finally gave 
condensed milk, isn't it ?" 

" It is," replied the poet, meekly. 

" Well, you were justified in laughing at so funny a 
thing. I am going to laugh at it myself as soon as I 
can find time." 

"Is that how you appreciate humor?" inquired 

" It is just the way. When I met you I was laugh- 
ing over a little poem that Penny-a- Wordsworth wrote 
about three years ago. It was a lovely ballad. Let's 
have it, please : the ' Ballad of the Kilduf and the 
Kindling-wood-pecker.' " 

" I don't think I can recall it now." 

" Oh yes, you can," said the Hurrishoffer, " if you 
only want to. Come, now, vaseline your memory a 
little, and try." 



Penny-a- Wordsworth, thus addressed, dropped his 
head on his chest, thought deeply for a moment, and 
recited slowly, as though afraid of forgetting the lines: 


'"At the top of a doughnut-tree lived a Kilduf 
With a navy blue tail and a cardinal ruff, 
And one day, as she warbled a delicate song, 
Did a Kindling-wood-pecker came hopping along. 

"Oh, the Kindling-wood-pecker was lavishly drest 
In a violet hat and a caraway vest, 
And the way that be ogled and smiled was enough 
To upset the green head of the wisest kilduf. 

" ' Come, my pretty Kilduf, be wedded to me ; 
I've a nice cosey castle in yon whiffle-tree; 
We were meant to be mates, like a pair of kid gloves, 
And as happy we'll be as two mock- turtle doves.' 

" Then 'twas softly the plump little Kilduf replied, 
'I have promised to be the pert Seersucker's bride, 
And it useless will be for you further to woo, 
So you'd best don your violet hat and go to.' 

"Then the Kindling-wood-pecker was chilled to the soul 
As away from the home of the Kilduf he stole, 
And thereafter secured in the merciless wave 
What is commonly known as a watery grave." 

" Just as good as the first time I heard it," said the 
Hurrishoffer ; " I could stand it once a month. Will 
you pardon me if I dance for joy on this happy occa- 
sion ?" 

" We will," said Tommy and Penny-a- Wordsworth. 

" Thanks," said the Hurrishoffer. 

Then he got on a nice soft green spot, and danced 
and laughed until he was completely exhausted. 


" You must be very hungry, Tommy ?" said the Hur- 
rishoffer, when he had recovered his breath after danc- 
ing for joy. 

" I am," replied the boy. 

" Are you fond of cream tarts ?" 

" Yes." 

" How do you like cream of tartar ?" 

" I don't know," said Tommy. 

" Do you like ornithorhyncustard pie ?" 

" I never tasted it." 

" Well, we are at the Food Orchard now, and here 
is everything you can desire. To start with, there is a 

" What grows on it ?" 

" Pie, of course. And there's a lobster-croquette 
tree. See the croquettes turning red in the sun ?" 

" I thought lobsters were green," observed Tommy. 

" They are before they're cooked ; so are the lob- 
ster-croquettes before the sun cooks them. Last 
spring the hierophant's offspring ate a lot of green 
croquettes, and he was twisted so badly that we had 
to straighten him by a stretching process." 

" Those are queer-looking leaves on the lobster-cro- 
quette tree." 

" Those are buckwheat cakes," said the Hurrishoffer. 
" Do you ever have croup ?" 


"What has that to do with buckwheat cakes?" 
asked Tommy. 

" Never you mind ; do you ever have croup ?" 

" Sometimes." 

" Then we'll make your couch under the ipecactus 

" I hate ipecac," said Tommy. 

" I suppose you do, but medicine is all right in its 
place " 

" Which is the drug store," broke in Tommy. 

" There is a liniment bush right over there," said 
the Hurrishoffer, without noticing the interruption, 
" beside the porcupine tree just at the edge of the 
wall-flower hedge. This is the drug part of the gar- 
den, with the exception of the liver-pad department, 
which is down in yonder brook." 

" You are very kind to tell me all these things," said 

" I want you to know all about Hurrishofferonia," 
replied the King, " from the joyful sound of the morn- 
ing clarion of the kangarooster to the flavor of the 
rocking-horse-radish. You see that object that looks 
like a yellow rose ?" 


" Pluck it, and eat it." 

" It is very nice indeed," said Tommy. " What is 
it, anyhow ?" 

"It is a tailor's-gooseberry tart." 

" Have you any ladies'-fingers growing here ?" 

" None," said the Hurrishoffer, sadly ; " the ladies 
lost all their fingers fooling around the buzz-saw- 
sage, which, although its motto is ' hands off,' gener- 
ally takes the palm." 

"That was sad ; but what kind of birds are those ?" 


" Mandrakes and candy pullets," replied the King ; 
" all cooked and ready to be eaten." 

" I would like some plum-pudding." 

" Come right with me, then, and you shall have all 
you want." 

So they walked a little way off until they came to a 
plum-pudding tree, which was full of little plum-pud- 
dings, each on a plate. And then there was a spigot 
in the trunk of the tree, attended by a meringue-o- 
tang, which, when turned on, produced the sauce. 

Tommy was soon engaged upon one, which he pro- 
nounced splendid. Then he was shown the apricot- 
tage-pudding tree, the dried-apple tree, the cake walk, 
the keep-off-the-grass-hopper, and other curiosities. 
He was delighted, perhaps most of all, with the stool- 
pigeon pot-pie. He ate until he was almost helpless, 
and then told the Hurrishoffer he was anxious to go 
into the Candy Garden. 

Before the Hurrishoffer led the way he said : " When 
you enter the Candy Garden do not allude to the fact 
that there are no caramels there, because it makes me 
sad. Are you fond of stories ?" 

" Very," replied Tommy. 

" Then let us sit down here on the breezy bed of 
furbelotus, and I will tell it you. It is an epic, and 
has been immortalized by Penny-a-\Vordsworth in a 
poem entitled ' The Last of the Caramels,' which, as a 
literary performance, I consider the Odyssey of Hurri- 
shofferonia. It is a long poem, finely wrought, and 
elaborated to the finest detail. I will tell it you 
briefly and simply. 

" Many years ago the Candy Garden was more dense- 
ly populated by the Hopscotch and Caramels than by 
any other of the candy races. They were almost 


equal in numbers, and were very jealous of each other. 
To try to keep them at peace with each other, I placed 
Miss Chocolate Eclair, a beautiful little cake Princess, 
over the Candy Garden ; but in spite of her they we.nt 
to war. They used sticks of candy for clubs and 
battering-rams, and lemon drops for missiles. The 
war was carried on with great energy by both sides, 
and all sunshine and prosperity was driven out of the 
Candy Garden while it lasted. First the Hopscotch 
would gain an advantage, and then be repulsed by the 
Caramels, who were determined and plucky fighters. 
They drove each other all over the Candy Garden, and 
up through the Food Orchard, where one day a stray 
or spent Lemon Drop killed Miss Charlotte Russe, who 
was sitting on the Coltsfoot Rock, where the widow's 
weeds grow. The Lemon Drop was thrown by a Cara- 
mel, who was observed by a pudding. The Pudding 
was hasty, and called upon its tree to shake them all 
like shells upon the Caramels. This was done, and 
the Caramels were totally demoralized, and driven out 
of both the Candy Garden and Food Orchard by the 
Hopscotch, who took advantage of their enemy's situ- 
ation, and sent them forth into the scorching sun, and 
kept them there until they caramelted and were absorbed 
by the ground." 

" Oh, how dreadful !" said Tommy, " that the whole 
Caramel tribe should be killed in this way !" 

" Alas ! you who are not a Hurrishoffer cannot be- 
gin to imagine what the effect was. Will you pardon 
a tear or two in one who is perhaps too large to appear 
tender-hearted ?" 

" Certainly," said Tommy. 

" Thanks. I will be through directly." 

Then the Hurrishoffer sat down and wept like a 


child ; and while he wept his great body swayed to 
and fro with emotion. Finally he dried his eyes, and 
seemed himself again. 

Then they went into the Candy Garden. The posts 
of the fence that surrounded it were huge sticks of 
candy, and the pickets smaller sticks, and were of 
every color. The paths inside were made of mosaics 
of molasses candy, and under some of the cough- 
drop arbors there were rugs and carpets of marsh- 
mallow and jujube paste. 

It seemed queer to Tommy to breathe such sweet 
air for it was all flavored with candy and he was 
not a little surprised when a vagrant wind stole through 
the trees and shook about a peck of licorice drops into 
his lap. The Hurrishoffer took a great rope of molas- 
ses candy, and threw both ends over the projecting 
limb of a burned-almond tree, and thus improvised a 
swing, into which Tommy got, at his request, and was 
kept swinging until his feet went away up into the 
saccharine foliage. 

" Oh, what's that noise ?" asked Tommy, as he heard 
a sort of clatter a little way off. 

" That is the clatter of the candy animals exercising." 

Tommy looked down, and there, sure enough, he 
saw a lot of horses, cows, sheep, and ostriches gallop- 
ing along in the happiest manner. They were of every 
color, and made a pretty spectacle as they pranced by 
in the rays of the rising moon. 

"They are taking a little exercise before retiring," 
said the Jlurrishoffer ; "and as to-morrow is my birth- 
day, perhaps we had better retire too, and be up early 
for the sport. I will make a couch for you in the shadow 
of the ipecactus, that you may not take croup, or be dis- 
turbed by the yowl of the night-blooming requiescat." 


EARLY in the morning Tommy was awakened from 
his slumber by the crowing of the kangarooster, and 
a little later the Hurrishoffer's favorite Pooh-pooh a 
sort of feathered messenger arrived, and told Tommy 
to prepare for a rare day's sport. 

Tommy thanked the Pooh-pooh for his trouble, and 
the Pooh-pooh smiled pleasantly on Tommy ; because 
Tommy loved the Hurrishoffer, who was the Pooh- 
pooh's dearest friend. When Tommy reached the green 
the Hurrishoffer insisted on his sitting beside him. 
All Hurrishofferonia was out, and sitting around in a 
great circle. The Kilduf, the Seersucker, the Welsh 
Rabbit, the Muscat, the Vamoose, the Redingote, the 
Hoarhound, the Moscow, the Black Maria, the Cinna- 
monkey, the Shampoodle, the Puccoon, the Ginger- 
snapping-turtle, the Terrapincushion, and the Official 
Seal made an impressive circle. 

When all was in readiness Penny-a-Wordsworth 
arose to begin the poeting of the day with 


" Oh, the Hurrishoffer is here to-day, 

And that's why our hearts are light, 
For the Hurrishoffer is blithe and gay, 

And his jokes are always bright. 


At any time he can make us laugh, 

For his merry jests ne'er fail, 
And he makes us roar till we break in half 

When he spins his hat on his tail. 

" Oli, the Hurrishoffer is good and kind 

He's a very indulgent King ; 
To all our faults he is simply blind, 

And his praise we daily sing. 
That he is the King is the greatest boast 

That we make in this pleas-ant vale, 
But oh, we admire him and love him most 

When he spins his hat on his tail. 

"Oh, long may the HurrisholTer reign; 

May he live ten thousand years, 
And spread his merriment o'er the plain 

As a salve for care and tears ! 
May he glad the hearts of his subjects all, 

Till his name with joy they hail, 
And may they just laugh till they helpless fall 

When he spins his hat on his tail !" 

"This style," said the Hurrishoffer, by way of illus- 

Then he arose and began spinning his white high 
hat on his tail, and waltzing all around the circle as he 
did it. He would suddenly toss the hat high in the 
air, and turn about and catch it as it descended, after 
the manner of the hat-spinning circus clown. All the 
time he kept roaring with laughter, and his subjects 
joined in until all Hurrishofferonia shook. Finally 
the Hurrishoffer resumed his place, out of breath, but 
grinning with great glee. 

At that moment a queer-looking object ran into the 
circle dancing. It danced for something like twenty 
minutes, and was then asked to get out of the way. 


Tommy wanted to know why it was not allowed to re- 
main, and was told that it was because it could not stop 
dancing, and that dancing became rather monotonous 
after twenty minutes of it. 

" What is it, anyhow ?" asked Tommy. 

" It is a thingmajig," replied the Hurrishoffer. 

The Thingmajig danced out of the circle, as request- 
ed, and down through the porcupinery towards the 
Food Orchard, the last seen of it being its feet, which 
were beating the ground at a great rate. 

" Oh, just look at those two animals flying across 
the field over there !" said Tommy. " What in the 
world are they ?" 

" They are the Redingote and Vamoose," replied 
the King. 

But this was not a sufficient explanation for a little 
boy of Tommy's age. He wanted to know more, and 
the Hurrishoffer, seeing this, indulgently called upon 
Penny-a- Wordsworth for the recorded idyl; and Pen- 
ny-a- Wordsworth, feeling proud and happy at being 
called upon to repeat one of his own performances, 
cheerfully responded with 


" The Redingote sat in the hawthorn spray, 

And remarked to the old Vamoose, 
'Your father was naught but a clothes-horse gray, 

And your mother a tailor's goose,' 
When up jumped the old Vamoose, and smote 
The pate of the impudent Redingote. 

" The Redingote took to his heels and ran, 

When he heard the Vamoose's crows: 
Til kill you, Sir Redingote, if I can, 
And full soon will the lush shad roes 


With the baked verbena softly wave 

'Neath the cold white moon on your nameless grave.' 

" The Redingote then became much more fleet, 

All his features with fear were grim, 
He wanted no flowers snowy and sweet 

To be blooming on top of him. 
The old Vamoose got over the ground 
With the wondrous speed of the brown Hoarhound. 

" Like fleet-footed sawbucks they cross the bog, 

With never a moment of rest, 
And they leap each stream like the lithe leap-frog 

Where the gutter-snipe guards her nest; 
And how long they'll run over hill and dell 
Is really more than I now can tell." 

" And more than any one else can," observed the 
Hurrishoffer, " for they have already been running 
twenty years. Perhaps some day the Vamoose may 
forget about the insult offered his parents by the im- 
polite Redingote, and that will end it." 

The idea of the Vamoose ever forgetting an insult 
that he had been running twenty years to wipe out of 
the offender struck all Hurrishofferonia as being pretty 
good, and they roared with laughter for several minutes. 

" I have a new poem," said Penny-a- Wordsworth, 
rather abruptly. 

" Let's have it," cried the Hurrishoffer, in great de- 

As soon as silence was restored, Penny-a- Words- 
worth arose and read 


"There was once an old woman who owned a muscat 

And its smile she was happy to win. 
Oh, the Muscat was brindled, uncanny, and fat; 
While the woman was haggard and thin. 


" Oh, the pair was together at daytime and night, 

And in all weather both rainy and fair; 
Oft the Muscat would spring from the floor and alight 
On her head, and she never would care. 

" Now one morning the Muscat fell deeply in love 

With the ancient Maria that's black, 
And the charmed Black Maria, just like a lone dove, 
Cooed most softly and tenderly back. 

"Then the Muscat, as happy as h.ippy could be, 

To pull o'er the dame's eyes the wool, 
It went forth to the meadow-land's white clover sea, 
And consulted the wild Irish bull. 

" Quick the bull replied briefly that love was enough, 

And the best thing to do, and full soon, 
Was to fly to the bald-headed priest on the bluff, 
'Neath the light of the silvery moon. 

"On that night they were duly and lawfully wed, 

And the animals gave them a ball. 
Maria some moonflowers wore on her head ; 
And the Muscat wore nothing at all. 

"When the old woman heard it, deep stricken with woe, 

Soon collapsed of pure worry and fret. 
It's a long time ago, but that couple, I know, 
Is existing most happily yet." 

" Of course they are, because the} 7 are here to-day," 
said the Hurrishoffer. " But what comes next on the 
programme ?" 

"The grand cavalcade of candy animals," said the 
Pooh-pooh, who then rent the air with about a hundred 
dismal pooh-poohs. 

In response all the candy animals came forth, and 
ran about, and marched up and down, executing some 


wonderfully difficult figures for candy animals. This 
they kept up for an hour, and Tommy thought he had 
never seen so much in a museum or a menagerie. 

" They're all here but the Bat," said the Pooh-pooh. 

" What's the matter with the Bat ?" inquired the 

" He has a sick-headache," replied the Pooh-pooh, 
"and begged off, but sent his warmest regards and 
congratulations, did the Bat, who is sleeping up in 
the base-ball tree, where " 

The Pooh-pooh paused, and looked in the direction of 
the underground river. All Hurrishofferonia wondered 
why he had discontinued his speaking so suddenly. 
His features denoted surprise that bordered on fear. 

" Oh, something very queer 

Is about to happen here, 

Or I am no kioodle," 

Remarked the quaint Shampoodle. 

" Oh, what do you think ?" asked the Hurrishoffer. 
"Has any one any advice to proffer?" 

"I believe," the dried Apple-tartar said, 
" That we'll get an awful battering 

Before it is time to go to bed 

If we don't take to requiescattering." 

They all started in different directions without fur- 
ther ado, but the Pooh-pooh got them back when hej 
shouted, " Here comes a strange party all animals 
like Tommy." 

They looked, and saw the Pooh-pooh was right, and 
Tommy looked only to see his father and several of 
his friends. They were rejoiced to see each other, as 
they never expected to meet again. The boys who 



had helped Tommy take his canoe to the lake told his 
father that he had not been seen by them since he 
entered the cave, and a search was immediately com- 
menced. When his father found running water in 
the cave, he had a dam built outside its mouth, thus 
shutting off the supply. The underground river was 
soon empty, and they had come through on horseback 
a very long distance. 

As they departed homeward with Tommy, the Hurri- 
shoffer was simply heart-broken, because he thought a 
great deal of Tommy, whom he regarded as a nice little 
boy, and Tommy liked him in return for his many 
kindnesses to him. He thinks seriously of visiting the 
Hurrishoffer again next summer with some of his com- 
panions, who are not inclined to believe in the Food 
Orchard and the Candy Garden. 


[POPONAX the First was a very dignified 
and austere King who was never known 
to smile. It is only consistent with the 
undying principles of truth to say that 
many and various were the attempts of 
his subjects and ministers to throw him into a laugh, 
for there was a superstition among them that if his 
look of melancholy could once be changed into one of 
merriment, the ice would be broken, and he would 
continue to laugh, and cause sunshine and happiness 
to go hand in hand through the length and breadth of 
his great domain. 

Opoponax was greatly amused at these well-meant 
attempts for his own happiness and that of his sub- 
jects, but his amusement never manifested itself in 
even the ghost of what might be termed a smile. 



" Should I laugh, it would only be out of compli- 
ment," often mused Opoponax, "and that would not 
be consistent with my sentiment of honesty. If my 
face shall ever blossom with merriment it must come 
from the heart. Never shall I be guilty of a dishonest 
laugh !" 

In his retinue he had two jesters on approval. 
He had tried several who had been sent him with 
flattering recommendations, none of whom succeeded 
in producing the desired effect. He pronounced them 
all as stupid as so many swineherds, and notified each, 
after a trial of two days, that his services would not 
be required after the end of the current moon. 

'/ .'/. 



The effect of his severe but honest strictures upon 
the performances of these worthy creatures was any- 
thing but soothing to their professional pride. It 
made them so sad in appearance that they were fun- 
nier than ever to those who had anything like a full 
appreciation of their efforts. One of the trial jesters 
was so mortified at his reception that he became de- 
spondent, and while imagining that in reality he was 
not funny, left the employment of the King without 
giving his royal master a day's notice, and apprenticed 
himself to an undertaker. 

When a jester perpetrated a joke calculated to set 
the table in a roar, every one would look at the King 
to note its effect upon him. Should he attempt a 
laugh they would all be ready to roar, even if the say- 
ing did not impress them as being in the least funny. 
But as Opoponax never laughed, his retinue never 
roared ; but frequently some one would titter, in a wild 
endeavor to suppress the laughter bubbling in his heart. 

This would displease the King very much, because 
he really envied every man his capacity for the enjoy- 
ment of the ludicrous, and felt that while others were 
amused by a joke which he could not see, it simply 
placed him in the unhappy light of a dull, boorish 

"Ah, what would I not give if I could but appreciate 
the smallest witticism ?" said the King one day. " To 
see all about me wild with delight, and not be able 
to participate is what is making my beard as white 
as snow. Was that thing just uttered about the boot- 
maker's niece wearing cut-glass eyes of different colors 
to match her various dresses funny ?" 

" That is the way it struck us," replied the Prime- 
minister, at his left. 


" It is very strange," replied Opoponax, wearily, 
"that I cannot see it in the same light. It strikes 
me as being simply a statement setting forth an absurd 
vanity on the part of the boot-maker's niece. But if I 
am wrong in my estimate, pray tell me why you didn't 
langh ? You admit that it was funny. Now if it was 
f u nay and you have a keen appreciation of fun, why 
didn't you laugh, my lords, why didn't you laugh?" 

" We did not think it would be courtesy to laugh 
when you were silent. We did not feel warranted in 
manifesting the joy which you could not feel." 

" You are all indeed very considerate ; but you en- 
joyed the Tartary tarts, which I could not partake of 
on account of my dyspepsia. I suppose if I were to 
be taken sick you would all go to bed if only for the 
sake of being consistent !" 

" Did we understand you to say you are the victim 
of that gnawing malady, dyspepsia?" inquired the 
Prime-minister, in a tone of sympathy, calculated to 
improve the King's spirits. 

" That is what I said," responded Opoponax, with a 
touch of feeling ; " but I am at a loss to know whether 
you so understood me or not, and, I must confess, I 
don't care." 

" It's the dyspepsia ! It's the dyspepsia !" murmured 
the Prime-minister. 

" What's the dyspepsia?" demanded the King. 

"It's the dyspepsia," said the Prime-minister, "that 
makes you incapable of enjoying a joke. Clam juice 
is the thing that will make the point of a joke quite 
clear to you by first annihilating your dyspepsia." 

" Perchance I should apologize humbly to the Jest- 

The table was immediately in a roar. Even the 



Jester himself could not refrain from laughing, al- 
though, like a good joker, he never laughed at his 
own sallies. 

" What are you all laughing at ?" roared Opoponax, 
growing red in the face. 


"At your joke about apologizing to the Court 

" I did not know it was a joke," replied the King. 

"That it was," replied the Prime -minister, in a 
warm, complimentary tone " that it was, your Ma- 
jesty, and one that I consider " 

" Consider your salary reduced 50 per cent. !" broke 
in the King, with great feeling. 

" The King is not a fool by a long shot," mused 
the Jester, " but he is witty enough to be a court fool." 

" To show you that no joke was intended at your 
expense," said Opoponax to the Jester, " I wish to 
humbly apologize to you for not having enjoyed and 


laughed at vour stories before. But in offering a word 
or two by way of apology, what should I say ?" 

" You might simply say," replied the Jester, " ' Ha, 

" Ha, ha !" shouted Opoponax. 

"I accept your apology," said the Jester, bowing 
low, " and if laughter be not natural with you, it might 
be acquired. I would humbly suggest, looking only to 
your Majesty's welfare and happiness, that when a 
joke is uttered you ' Ha, ha !' with all your might, and 
soon you will find yourself unconsciously laughing." 

"What a happy idea, what a happy idea," said Opo- 
ponax, with mechanical glee, for his so-called gayety 
was all assumed, his face being as expressionless as 
that of a cabbage. " I am going conscientiously to 
work to follow your directions, that I may acquire a 
taste for fun as I long ago acquired a taste for olives." 

" Favor me with another tart," said the Jester to 
one of the servants. 

" Ha, ha, ha !" roared Opoponax. 

But while he roared and swayed to and fro, as if 
unable to control himself, it was evident to all that 
his laughter was only attempted laughter, with no soul 
in it, for his face wore an expression of anxiety, as if 
he wondered if he was going to be congratulated upon 
a successful effort. 

"What are you laughing at?" asked the Prime-min- 

" Then I laughed, did I ?" said the King, too great- 
ly pleased to answer the question put to him. " And 
was it a good, natural sort of laugh that would pass 
current anywhere ?" 

" It was very good for a beginner," replied the 
Prime-minister, with a diplomatic smile, " but there 


was no joke to be laughed at. The Jester simply 
asked for a tart. Was that funny ?" 

" Of course it is impossible for me to say," replied 
Opoponax, deeply grieved. " When you know that 
you can distinguish a joke when you hear one, and 
that I cannot, you should not come to me for informa- 
tion on the subject. I find that when I cannot distin- 
guish a joke, it is worse than madness for me to mas- 
ter the art of laughing, lest I laugh vvhere the laugh 
should not come in, and perhaps destroy the spirit of 
some beautifully solemn occasion." 

" What an unhappy condition of mind !" observed 
the Second Jester. " What a sad world it would be for 
the professional clown if all men were like our good 

" Was that funny ?" asked the King. 

" It was not," replied the First Jester. 

" Then I will not indulge even in a practice ' Ha, ha! ' 
But hold, a thought occurs to me !" 

" What is it ?" asked the First Jester. 

" It is this : are not the rest of the company often 
in error when they laugh ? Do not they sometimes 
laugh at a thing that strikes them as being funny when 
in reality it is not ?" 

" Possibly you are right," responded the First Jest- 
er, with an air of wounded professional pride ; " some 
applaud stupidity for wit, bombast for eloquence, and 
platitude for poetry. The average merit of the fool 
is about as high as that of the philosopher, whose 
most elaborate theories are generally combated suc- 
cessfully by some other philosopher quite as eminent 
as himself." 

"Then," said Opoponax, making an unsuccessful 
attempt to smile, " it is not as humiliating to remain 

282 OPOPONAX }4 

silent at a real joke as it is to laugh immoderately at 
one that may in reality be no joke at all. I think, 
after all, my attitude is not entirely without its merits. 
Can you furnish me with a sample for analysis ?" 

" Certainly," replied the First Jester, with a pleasant 
smile. " The other day I purchased a paper, and the first 
thing that caught my eye was ' Sport in the Woods.' 
Under this head followed a story of how a sportsman 
was eaten by a bear." 

"Where's the joke?" asked Opoponax when the 
last laugh had died away behind the kitchen door. 

" On the sportsman," replied the Jester. 

" I cannot see the joke at all," replied Opoponax. 
"It was simply a heart-rending calamity that should be 
productive of tears and not laughter, especially if the 
unfortunate man left a large family and had no insur- 
ance on his life. Now, I propose that we put it to a 
vote. If it shall be decided a joke, we will all laugh ; 
if a calamity, then we will all weep." 

The vote was taken, and the First Jester carried the 
day unanimously. 

" Ha, ha, ha ! ha, ha, ha !" shouted Opoponax, with 
great emotion. " I laugh to show my appreciation of 
your appreciation ; but, by the way, what do you think 
of my laugh ?" 

" To be frank with you," replied the First Jester, 
" it is not what I call a good honest laugh yet ; in fact 
it is what might be termed a laugh of promise. It has 
volume, but it lacks soul ; but you must be patient and 
persevere. Unfortunately there is no method by which 
laughter can be taught, yet at the same time I feel 
warranted in offering you encouragement. By energy 
and persistence you may yet acquire a laugh that will 
impress the stranger as having been born in you 


a nice, sweetly-modulated laugh, characterized by the 
most delicate shades of coloring. I trust my honest, 
outspoken manner may not cost me a reduction of 

" That it shall not," replied Opoponax. " If all my 
sage advertisers " 

" Don't you mean advisers ?" asked the Second 

" Thank you very much," replied Opoponax. " You 
have hit upon my meaning exactly. I was simply go- 
ing to state that if all my sage advisers were as sage 
as my fools my nightly sleep would be sounder and 
more refreshing." Then, turning his gaze upon the 
First Jester, he continued, " I am going to make you 
a more important person in this palace. Hereafter 
you are to be known as my Preceptor in Laughing 
first, because you understand the principles of the comic 
cult ; and, second, because you are not afraid to tell 
the truth." 

The First Jester bowed low in acknowledgment of 
so graceful a compliment, and the Prime - minister's 
face wore an expression that indicated the fact that 
he had just swallowed a mouthful of hot soup the 
wrong way. 

" I shall be happy to enter upon the sacred duties 
of my new position at once," said the new Minister of 
Laughing, " and will begin by tying a string to the left 
foot of our gracious sovereign, that I may inform him 
of the perpetration of a joke by pulling upon the same. 
Then he will not undergo the humiliation of being rid- 
iculed for laughing when I simply ask for a cup of 

The King thought this an excellent idea, and sub- 
mitted to the operation of having a cord fastened to 


the foot of the lesser gout with becoming grace and 

"Don't laugh until I pull," said the Minister of 

" 'Tis well," replied the happy monarch ; " but don't 
pull too hard." 

"About like this," suggested the First Jester, who 
gave the cord a slight pull. 

The King indulged in a slight chuckle. 

" There was no joke, and you should not have chuc- 
kled," said the First Jester. " That pull was merely to 
show you the manner in which a joke should be made 
known to you." 

" Pardon me," replied Opoponax, humbly. " I sup- 
pose a slight pull is to mean that you have perpetrated 
a delicate joke that should be enjoyed by a low chuckle, 
while one that requires a wild guffaw shall be accom- 
panied by a hard, sudden jerk." 

" It would doubtless be a very good code to follow, 
and I think it would be advisable to adopt it. But it 
will be impossible to give you the proper attention in 
the presence of all this company. What I propose is 
that we go out for a walk, that we may philosophize on 
laughter and get at its fundamental principles. I would 
also take you to the abode of Timothy Hay, the Laugh- 
ing Farmer, for an object-lesson." 

"As Timothy Hay is the name of a farm product," 
replied the King, with a sort of preoccupied air, " it 
strikes me as being a quaintly happy cognomen for an 
agriculturist. Upon first hearing it, I was prompted to 
attempt a laugh, but as you did not pull the string I 
refrained. I am now wholly in your hands, and, that 
being the case, I shall never laugh on a slack string." 

" You are indeed a gratifying pupil," said the First 


Jester ; " and if I do not make a laugher of you in eigh- 
teen or twenty easy lessons it will be because you were 
not born with laughter in your soul. I believe you are 
as full of latent laughter as a grocer's barrel is full of 
effete eggs, if you will pardon so rude a simile. When 
your latent laughter is properly developed you will be 
able to go about alone without a cord, and without any 
fear of suffering the poignant mortification incident to 
laughing at a serious statement." 

Opoponax attempted to smile in gratitude, but the 
effort was without success. He said : 

" You must never deceive me by pulling the string 
on a serious statement. You must not remark that 
you think it looks like rain and then tighten the 
cord, just for the sake of hearing me laugh at some- 
thing that is not at all funny." 

The First Jester, or, rather, the Minister of Laughing, 
promised that he would under no consideration be 
guilty of such an act which, he said, would be nothing 
short of a misdemeanor. He would be very careful 
and conscientious, even to the finest details of the busi- 
ness in hand, and endeavor to make himself worthy 
of the royal confidence reposed in him. He fully 
realized and appreciated the importance of his com- 
mission, and would have the Second Jester accompany 
them, for the purpose of taking notes and making 
kindly suggestions. 

It was suggested that they start immediately for the 
establishment of Timothy Hay, the Laughing Farmer. 
So without further ado they filed out into the hall- 
way of the palace, where Opoponax took his crown 
and purple robe the water-proof which he wore in 
dubious weather off the hat-stand peg, and donned 
them for the journey. 



"Perchance I had best take me sceptre along to 
ward off the chance canine on the highway." 

The First Jester pulled the string instantly. 

" Must I laugh at my own utterances if you happen 
to think them funny ?" 

"You must!" replied the First Jester; "my object 
is to teach you to laugh. Now you will kindly laugh 
at what you just said about waving the highway dog 
off with your sceptre." 

To make him realize that he was in earnest the 
First Jester pulled the string, and Opoponax made a 
violent effort to laugh, while the Second Jester looked 
on and took notes to be preserved for future reference. 


"What's that you are writing about me?" asked 

" Nothing but memoranda of your case," replied the 
Second Jester, " which we intend to preserve for scien- 
tific purposes. Laughter is one of the wholesomest 
things in the world, and we should all know every- 
thing concerning it. ' How Opoponax was Taught to 


Laugh' may be the title of a volume resulting from 
this pleasant experience." 

" Then it is well," replied Opoponax, " and I do not 
feel offended. When the book shall appear it will 
give me great pleasure to put my name down for a 
copy. Oh, when I learn to laugh I intend to even 
matters with many people who have laughed at me 
when they knew I was powerless to laugh back. It 
will also be a happy day for you, too, my good 

" How so ?" asked the Second Jester. 

" Because," continued Opoponax, " you can work 
off all your old witticisms on me. I have listened to 
your jokes, but have never been able to enjoy them. 
Of course that was no fault of yours ; but when you 
have taught me to appreciate anything funny, the jests 
that are ancient and so to speak white-whiskered to 
you will be quite new and fresh to me, and it is quite 
possible that you will not be obliged to invent anything 
in your line for several years." 

And so, in the best of spirits, the three walked to- 
gether in the direction of the home of Timothy Hay, 
the Laughing Farmer. The trees were full of singing 
birds, and the meadows were bathed in softest sun- 
shine, as the three jogged gayly along, Opoponax walk- 
ing ahead, the First Jester a pace or two behind, hold- 
ing the string attached to the King's foot of the 
lesser gout, and the Second Jester still a little farther 
in the rear, with a lead-pencil in one hand and a book 
in the other, ready at a moment's notice to jot down 
anything that might afterwards be of historical or 
scientific value. 


"!F you will now have the kindness to pull the 
string, I shall be happy to make the attempt of my 
life," said Opoponax, as they turned a bend in the 

" I should be but too happy to comply," replied the 
First Jester, " could I but do so conscientiously. You 
know I have undertaken not only to teach you the 
physical art of laughing, if I may so put it, but to 
make it clear to you when to laugh, and the things to 
laugh at. It would therefore be unjust to you, and in- 
consistent with my self-respect as a philosopher and 
a fool, to pull the string without cause." 

" But I notice a picture yonder which strikes me as 
being funny, yet I think it cannot be in the least ludi- 
crous on account of the slack string. It represents a 
man driving a pig. The man and the pig are con- 
nected, so to speak, by a long cord, which stretches 
from the hand of the man to a hinder member of the 
pig, who is at present filling the air with an undulate 
screech that loosens the jewels in my crown. Now 
there is that man teaching the pig to laugh, as I am 
being taught, and is the pig's laugh a success ?" 

The face of Opoponax was as cold and expression- 
less as a goat's eye until the First Jester gave the 
string a pretty hard jerk. 

" Ha, ha, ha ! Ha, ha, ha" 


" That's enough !" replied the First Jester, " take it 
easy ; no house was ever builded within six months 
of the date set by the contractor. When we can swim 
three strokes we can swim any distance if we have the 
confidence. You can already laugh three syllables 
pretty well ; now you must be perfectly calm, and 
you'll soon be able to laugh gracefully. But what 
pleases me most is your appreciation of the comic 
side of the man driving the pig. Of course you did 
not really appreciate it, because you had to a^k me 
if it was funny. But you at least thought it funny, 
and asked me if I could confirm you in that sus- 
picion, which is an indication of progress." 

Then turning to the Second Jester he told him to 
make a note of the entire scene, with all the details. 
While doing so, the First Jester complimented the 
King in warmest terms, and assured him that he had 
great hopes for his ultimate success. This unexpected 
compliment, which Opoponax knew to be a sincere one, 
would have made him smile if he had been capable 
of so doing. But not being able to smile he danced 
for joy. 

" You say that this Timothy Hay, the Laughing 
Farmer, is really a great laugher ?" 

" Indeed he is," replied the First Jester. " If his 
turnips were as great as his laughs they would be 
bigger than barrels, and would have to be pulled out 
of the earth by horse-power." 

"That is good enough to pull the string on," said 
the Second Jester. " Give it a pull, and don't keep 
the poor King in suspense. Don't you notice the 
worried expression of his face ?" 

" Excuse me," said the First Jester ; " I didn't make 
that remark for the sake of an excuse to pull the 


string. I merely wished to impress upon the mind of 
good Opoponax the laughing power of Timothy Hay, 
and the turnip simile was the first one that occurred to 
me. But," continued the First Jester, looking at the 
King, " the laughter of Timothy Hay is peculiar. He 
laughs at anything and everything. Tell him a hot 
biscuit is not as digestible as a cold one, and he will 
laugh until the tears roll down his face. Now, as 
laughter is infectious, I want you to catch it from him. 
Notice how he laughs, and laugh with him, without 
reference to the string, and you will catch the move- 
ment and spirit of his merriment, just as you catch the 
time and air of an operatic chorus. You hear a piece 
of music that makes no particular impression on you, 
and three weeks later, while walking along the street, 
without knowing how or why, you whistle that tune 
perfectly. Now I presume it is quite possible that, 
after hearing Timothy Hay laugh a few times, you 
may, some fine day, while signing the death-warrant of 
a strolling musician, unconsciously burst forth into the 
same kind of a laugh, and be happy ever after." 

" Ah, that I may !" said Opoponax ; " ah, that I 
may ! But I trust I may never know how to laugh 
until I am first capable of distinguishing those things 
which should be laughed at from those things which 
should not." 

The King's mind was greatly disturbed by the re- 
flection set forth in the foregoing paragraph. In fact, 
he already feared the result of learning to laugh. 
What could be more painful than to know how but not 
when to laugh ? Being at present unable to laugh, 
no one was ever offended at his silence, but, let him 
once learn, and he would be expected to join in on 
the occasion of every jest. This, he reflected, would 


make him what he termed the trial dog of the king- 
dom. Every man with a joke would try it on him, 
and his life would become a burden. And, further, 
he would laugh at many utterances absolutely bar- 
ren of merit, and his royal indorsement would give 
currency to many an alleged bon mot, and fill the coun- 
try with feeble jests. 

These and other equally depressing thoughts filled 
the mind of Opoponax as the three hobbled along the 
road. The Second Jester was the first to break the 

"Yonder is the homestead of Timothy Hay, the 
Laughing Farmer." 

Opoponax looked in the direction in which the Sec- 
ond Jester pointed, and saw a small, weather-beaten 
hovel standing alone upon a hill, under a spreading 

" How sad," mused the King. " Do you suppose 
it looks doleful by way of contrast to the demeanor of 
the Laughing Farmer ?" 

" Very likely it does," replied the First Jester, wish- 
ing to please the King. 

"I trust so," observed the King; "for then must 
the farmer be merry." 

Here they entered the gate-way and ascended the 
hill, but no sooner had they gone half the distance 
than they met a cow that, while munching clover, ap- 
peared to be laughing. Before the King could express 
his great surprise at such a curious sight, the Second 
Jester observed, "It is possibly the result of living 
with this farmer, who, probably, from motives of econ- 
omy, allows his herds to fatten on laughter, or, rather, 
to laugh and grow fat." 

Bang ! went the string, and the King attempted a 




laugh that caused the cow to look up in startled sur 
prise, while tears formed in her eyes. It made the 
King sad at heart to be regarded in this way by a cow, 
and he, no doubt, would have wept, had he not just at 

that moment heard a 
peal of laughter float- 
ing over the hill, and 
directly after Timothy 
Hay appeared, shaking 
with merriment. 

" He is probably 
laughing at nothing at 
all, and is doubtless 
unconscious of the 
very fact that he is 

"If he can laugh that way at nothing, how must he 
langh at a good joke ?" asked the King. 

" We haven't time to discuss that," said the First 
Jester; "just you watch him, and try to join in." 

The King tried in vain. In fact, his solemn de- 
meanor frightened Timothy Hay, who fancied his King 
had come to do him evil. 

" I have not put water in the milk, or been guilty of 
a dishonest action in disposing of my produce," began 
the Laughing Farmer, wishing to set the King's mind 
at rest before he could accuse him of anything. 

" Is that a joke ?" asked the King of the First Jester. 

" Oh my, no," replied the Laughing Farmer, in an 

agitated tone. " It is no joke ; it is the honest truth." 

" Must I laugh ?" asked the King. 

Here the Laughing Farmer suddenly lost control of 

himself, and laughed so hard and well that the King 

tried to join in, but suddenly checked himself with the 



remark that he was not so vain and conceited as to 
fancy himself warranted in laughing in the presence 
of such an artist. 

" Indeed, my good fellow, I never heard such a 
laugh as yours before," said the King, pleasantly. 

" And I must say I never heard one like yours be- 
fore," replied the Laughing Farmer, feeling happy 
through and through upon realizing that the King was 
not making him a hostile visit. "Are you out of 
tune ?" 

The First Jester gave the string a jerk, and the King 
made a violent attempt to obey. But it seemed to 
freeze the heart of the Laughing Farmer. 

"Oh, suppose I should ever be able to laugh like 
that !" said the King. " Were you born so, or is it an 
after-effect of typhoid fever ?" 

The string was pulled again, and again the King 
tried to laugh, but with no better results than before. 

" Would you mind telling me the meaning of that 
string ?" asked the Laughing Farmer. " Is the King 
near-sighted that he should be led in this way ?" 



The reply was a jerk on the cord and another at- 
tempt upon the part of the King to laugh heartily. 

" I'm pretty well informed in the ways of men that 
work by the day," said the Laughing Farmer, in disgust, 
" but I don't know much about kings and their ways, 
which leads me to fancy that the work of a court jester 
must be a thankless task. I should think such a laugh 
as that would be a scorching commentary on the jest." 

" You use very good language for a simple agricult- 
urist," said the King. " Will you tell me how you 
acquired it?" 

"From reading the circus posters on the highway 
fences," replied the Laughing Farmer. " For beautiful 
imagery, flowery simile, and silver phrase, if I may so 
put it, there is nothing that compares favorably with 
the circus poster, which, in spite of the vulgar illustra- 
tions, is an irregular poem a limpid, purling runnel 
of sweetest song." 

" Hereafter," said the King, " I shall be a patron of 
the circus, and shall abandon my habit of collecting 
postage-stamps and coins to become a collector of cir- 
cus posters. On my return I shall cause this adver- 
tisement to be printed : ' Will exchange a rare and 
valuable collection of coins and postage -stamps for 
circus posters. For particulars address, Opoponax, 
Axminster Palace.' It will be an intellectual amuse- 
ment, and will doubtless make me a silver-tongued 

" Stranger things than that have happened," said the 
Laughing Farmer, "and I don't see why one cannot 
glean wisdom from the circus poster. We are taught 
by the busy bee " 

" What are we taught by the busy bee ?" asked the 

OPOPONAX 3^ 297 

" Not to take hold of him by the hinder extremity." 

In response to the cord Opoponax made a des- 
perate attempt to laugh, which resulted in tears pour- 
ing down his face. 

"He is not weeping," the First Jester explained; "it 
is only his way of laughing." 

" But I notice that you never laugh." 

"On the principle that the undertaker never weeps, 
I never laugh," replied the First Jester. " Being a 
Minister of Laughing, it would be inconsistent with my 
professional dignity to even smile. If you knew how 
candy is made you would never eat it. If you knew 
how jokes are made then would you never laugh." 

" I never thought of that before," said the Laughing 
Farmer ; " but as sure as my name is Timothy Hay it 
is sound philosophy, for I can say that although I raise 
spring chickens I never eat them." 

"You don't?" 

" No ; I barter them for gold, and live on beef." 

"But if you don't live on the chickens you raise, 
your argument is a little shaky, as you must live on 
the beef you raise," observed the Second Jester. 

"But I don't raise my beef. I buy it with the 
money realized from the spring chickens. You see 
the price of one pound of spring chicken yields two 
pounds of beef. But, prithee, let us abandon this 
commercial talk." 

" If you will tell us how you learned to laugh in 
such a spontaneous, soulful way we will agree to dis- 
miss the subject of business. Now, what do you laugh 
at when you appear to be laughing at nothing at all ?" 
asked the King. 

"At humanity," replied the Laughing Farmer. "I 
was sent in early life to a great city to learn a business, 


and it was there that I first laughed on observing the 
amusing vanities of man. And as the vanities con- 
tinued, so did the laugh. It is not a sinister, unchari- 
table laugh, for I am very fond of my fellow-man in 
whatever station I find him. I imagine that your in- 
ability to laugh is owing to the fact that you know 
little of the world and your kind. But if you will 
come up to the house I will show you some circus 

The King was delighted beyond measure at this 
kind invitation, as were the First and Second Jesters, 
and the party immediately started in the direction of 
the house, in the happy anticipation of a rare treat. 
They seated themselves around a long table, upon 
which the Laughing Farmer placed a great pile of 
circus posters of every color and description. The 
King regarded them with great joy, and when the 
others returned from the well whither they had gone 
for a drink, they found the King lying on his chest 
on the floor, with his chin resting on his hands, re- 
garding the blue and yellow posters with childish 
delight. He didn't notice the reappearance of the 
others, and they remained silent in the enjoyment of 
the novel scene. " This is a clown trying to ride a 
trick mule," he soliloquized ; " but I dare not attempt 
hilarity independently of the string. What beautiful 
language ! The average prime-minister has not such 
a vocabulary ! And what entrancing animals ! Why, 
it is a liberal education to study the circus poster !" 

Just at this time the King began to drum on the 
carpet with his toes, and to kick his feet in the air. 
The small boy of the house, never having seen a King 
before, didn't know exactly what to make of him ; so 
when he entered at the back door, and saw the cord, 


he thought the other end of it should be made fast to 
something to prevent its subject from wandering away. 
With this idea uppermost in his mind, he noiselessly 
tied the cord to the knob of the open door and went 
out. He had not been gone more than a minute or 
so when the wind blew the door shut, which tightened 
the cord, and the King again tried to laugh. 

" There was no joke," said the First Jester, coming 
in ; "it was only an accident." 

This amused the King very much, and the Laughing 
Farmer was so pleased at the way in which so powerful 
a monarch regarded it that he said he would unfold 
a secret. The secret was to the effect that during the 
winter a circus made his farm its quarters. Out in 
the barn they had a practice ring, in which youthful 
aspirants were taught to ride and tumble, and where 
all the mysteries of the profession were laid bare to 
the observer. Opoponax wanted to know if he could 
drop over during the season of snow, to make a study 
of it. He said it would afford him keen pleasure, and 
he would be willing to pay liberally for the privilege. 
The Laughing Farmer said he would consider the 
matter in all its bearings, and that if he should con- 
sent it would be on condition that the King take 

" I will hold balloons and spread the carpet in the 
ring if necessary," said the King. "If you don't be- 
lieve me let us now go out, and I will show you how 
I can rake a ring." 

They took him at his word, and out they went to 
the ring, where the King raked away like a good 
fellow. After he had raked the ring, he said he 
would like to ride around a few times and study a 



Accordingly a horse was brought, and the King 
rode around waving an orange - colored poster, and 
seemed as happy as a small boy with a new drum. 

"Opoponax is really a very good King," laughed 
the Farmer, as he watched him flying around the circle, 

his robe flying be- 
hind him in the air, 
and his crown bob- 
bing up and down 
in response to the 
motion of the 

" A good King," 
said the First Jest- 
er. "I think that 
is too mild a way 
of putting it. He 
is a most excellent 
person. He doesn't 
laugh at our jokes, 
to be sure ; but then 
he doesn't ask us 
to explain them." 

The horse had 
now stopped, and the King hopped down. 

" I will show you a neat trick," said the Laughing 
Farmer. So he embraced the King, and away they 
whirled around the ring like a wheel until you couldn't 
tell where the King began or the Laughing Farmer 

The jesters were stunned at the presumption of the 
Laughing Farmer, and said together : 
" He will surely lose his head !" 
And sure enough he did, because when they stood 



up the Farmer's head was on the King's shoulders, 
and the King's was on the Farmer's. 

" I never heard of such a thing as this," said the 
King's Head. " Here I have the body and legs of a 
Farmer, with which I can never appear in court." 

" As you are so sensitive," replied the Farmer's 
Head, laughing, "you had better stay on the farm, and 
I will run the kingdom with your legs. It will be a 
great change for both of us. In saying this I want 
to be understood as deeply regretting the change that 
has just occurred." 

" Sir," said the King's Head, severely, " I an Opo- 
ponax the First !" 

" Pardon me," replied the Farmer's Head, " you are 
now only Opoponax the Half. I am the other half. 
I think that as a king you are now, so to speak, null 
and void. You are better fitted for farming than I 
am, because you have my muscular body, with which 
you could not command any respect as a king. If 
I haven't your knowledge in my agricultural head, I 
can depend on a prime-minister for guidance. And 
in the winter you can have a grand time with the cir- 
cus people. All I want is my jack-knife." 

Here the Farmer's Head took the knife from the vest 
of the other, and went away laughing with the jesters. 

" It is all right," said the King's Head. " I will re- 
main on the farm, and allow you to have the throne ; 
I trust you may be very happy on it, and live a long 
and prosperous life." 

" I thank you," said the Farmer's Head, " but wish 
to impress upon you the fact that this peculiar change 
is quite as unpleasant to me as to you, and I would 
give anything to have you your old self again. Re- 
move the cord, Sir Jester." 


While he was untying the cord the Farmer's Head 

" What is that peculiar pain in this left foot ?" 

" It is the gout," replied the King's Head, " and 
you must take good care of the body on account of 
the rheumatism. Is there anything defective about 
your or rather this my body?" 

" Nothing," replied the Farmer's Head, " that I 
know of. Those legs will carry you fifty miles a 
day, and you have what I have not." 

" What, pray ?" 

"A pair of hands," replied the Farmer's Head, 
"that will always make you a living. It is now time 
to milk the cows and bed the horses for the night. 
Adieu !" 

"Adieu," replied the King's Head, trying in vain 
to laugh, " and may you be such a great and good 
king that your name shall become dear to all the 
people, and may your fame lead the appreciative to 
name many race-horses and standing collars after you." 

And the King's Head went to milk the cows, while 
the Farmer's Head departed with the jesters in the 
direction of Axminster Palace. 


"PROBABLY these hands can milk cows and bed 
horses," observed the King's Head; "but I cannot 
imagine how the thing is done, because such knowl- 
edge never lodged in this cranium " 

" Mercy sakes !" broke in Timothy Hay's old mother; 
" what has happened to you ? I recognize you as 
Timothy Hay by your clothing, but how came you by 
that head, and what kind of an airy summer hat is 
that you have on ?" 

" By a process which I cannot explain," replied the 
King's Head, " I became so mixed up with Timothy 
Hay while rolling around the circus ring that when 
we arose I found his head on my body and mine on 
his. He has gone away to rule the country, while I 
remain here to conduct the farm. The airy hat you 
speak of is a crown. How long does it take to milk 
a cow ?" 

" It depends upon how much milk the cow gives 
and how fast you work." 

" If I but had a prime-minister or an ordinary duke 
I should feel all right" 

Here he was disturbed by a horse that rubbed 
against him. 

" What, ho there, vile caitiff !" exclaimed the King's 

"You have no doubt been enjoying an easy life," 


said Timothy Hay's old mother, "and it will do you 
good to have a taste of work, while poor Timothy, 
who has worked all his life, will now have a happy 

" If you think the King has a happy existence, all 
right. For my part I am not particularly sorry of 
the change. I am now Opoponax the Half, your 
son Timothy being the other 50 per cent, of the 

" Well, well ! this is the queerest thing I ever heard 
of: one man going around with another man's head 
on. Now you're a farmer with a royal understanding, 
while Timothy is a king with an agricultural mind. 
It all seems like a dream to me. Come, and I will 
show you how to milk." 

The King's Head followed her to the stable, and 


she initiated him into the mysteries of milking. It 
was very amusing to see the King milk, after he had 
first hung his crown on the cow's horn. When the 
pail was full he carried it into the house and sat 

"Did you milk the others?" asked Timothy Hay's 
old mother. 

" Why should I ?" asked the King's Head. " Haven't 
we abundance here for all our wants? How much 
can we drink, anyway ?" 

" It isn't what we can drink. But how about the 
butter? That is the question." 

" Well, what about the butter ?" 

" How are we going to get butter if you don't milk 
all the cows ?" 

" Exchange chickens for it, if you must have it," 
said the King's Head. 

" But we trade our chickens for coffee." 

" Coffee is an abomination," said the King's Head ; 
"it produces nervousness and insomnia, and should 
have no place on any Christian table. Exchange the 
chickens for butter and go without coffee, or else en- 
gage a minister of milking. Now if you will show me 
the ladder, I will carry the chickens up and set them 
on the sycamore limb for the night." 

" You certainly don't know much about farming," 
laughed the old mother of Timothy Hay. 

" How can I know it with my body ?" asked the 
King's Head. 

" Not very well. But do you know when potatoes 
are dropped ?" 

" When they are too hot to hold, I should say." 

" How do you dry apples ?" laughed Mrs. Hay. 

" With a towel, I suppose." 



Mrs. Hay then laughed long and loud; but the 
King's Head could not join in. He had made up his 
mind to do the best he could, and if everything should 
go wrong to secure a man who would work the place 
on shares, and allow him to walk around and learn by 
looking on ; or he would sit in an easy-chair, and thus 
have the benefit of inspiration while observing his 
colleague in the act of unfolding the recondite mys- 
teries of agriculture. 

" But," said Mrs. Hay, " the man who works the 
place on shares will rob you of at least half the 

" Tis true," observed the King's Head, " but if I 
run it myself we shall lose all. I would rather Ian- 


guish in studious idleness for a 50 per cent, interest 
than work like a slave for nothing. You must look 
at it in a sensible, matter-of-fact way. I might kill a 


cow by not giving her a sufficient number of homoeo- 
pathic pills in the starry midnight. How am I to 
know all these things at once ? I wonder what makes 
my left shin feel so queer ?" 

" Timothy broke it last summer, and a sympathetic 
twinge occasionally thrills it." 

" What is this ?" asked the King's Head. He then 
drew forth a black object from one of the pockets, 
and unwound about two yards of cord from it, when 
out dropped a lot of hayseed and some money. 

"That's what he got for the brindled calf this 
morning," said Mrs. Hay, as she eyed the wallet. 
" Now it's time to split wood for the morning." 

" All right," replied the King's Head ; " give me the 

" You don't split wood with a saw, and you know 
you must be down at five in the morning to start the 

" Is that the regular programme ?" asked the King's 

" That's about it." 

" Then there is no money in farming, and no pleas- 
ure, either. I think it would be a good idea to sell 
out and start a baker-shop. I have an intelligent busi- 
ness head, combined with a body that can lift a hun- 
dred-weight. I could carry the barrels of flour and 
keep the books, and you could superintend the baking. 
Then should I be as happy as the half king I am." 

But Mrs. Hay would not listen to this. She had 
spent all her life on a farm, and did not care to make 
such a change in her old age. She said she would 
always be a loving, kind mother to him, and do all in 
her power to make his lot a happy one. She insisted 
on calling him Timo, which, she said, was half of 


Timothy as near as she could make it; and so the 
poor King's Head had to make the best of it. 

It is scarcely necessary to say that the farm ceased 
to be a paying institution. Timo never arose before 
nine in the morning. Even when his agricultural half 
was restless for the bucolic fray, his head was as 
sleepy as when he retired. He also demanded his 
breakfast in bed, and mortgaged the place that he 
might have chocolate and guava jelly. When the cow 
broke into the turnip field, he argued that she would 
only eat the green tops, or the foliage, as he expressed 
it, and thus save the ordinary labor of removing them 
with a knife. He would not hoe the potatoes for fear 
of cutting or smothering them. One day his disgust 
was completed when he had the rare misfortune to 
lose the end of one of his fingers in a hay-cutter. It 
was then that he denounced farming in the roundest 
terms, and wished to be a king once more. 

" Would you not like to look upon the face of your 
son once more ?" he asked. ^ , 

" Yes, indeed, Timo ; yes, indeed !" replied Mrs. 

" Then we will abandon the farm and start for Ax- 
minster Palace. If Opoponax the Half will not listen 
to our tale of woe, my face and crawn should still be 
of signal service to us." 

" Just wait until I fix up a basketful of gingerbread 
and cookies to preserve us on the way." 

She accordingly filled a basket with all the good 
things she could find, including a dried-apple pie and 
a bottle of cold tea, and, taking Timo by the hand, 
they started together in the direction of Axminster 


When the Farmer's Head, or Opoponax the Half, 
started for the throne with the First and Second Jest- 
ers he was the happiest man in the land. He was 
quite as glad to be away from the farm as Timo was 
to be away from the Palace with all his cares. He 
laughed so hard at everything the jesters said that 
these worthies felt they had sinecures, providing the 
laughter was not ironical. 

"What time do we get up at the Palace?" he 

"Any time," replied the jesters; "and not at all if 
you don't wish to." 

" And can I have pie and cake at every meal ?" 

" Yes, and all you want of it." 

" And go to all the circuses without paying ?" 

"Certainly you can. You can have a private circus 
if you want it." 

Here he swayed to and fro with laughter, which 
was his only way of showing his appreciation of any- 
thing funny or sad. 

" I am not accustomed to walking on such delicate 
legs as these," said Opoponax the Half. " I fear they 
must have tired themselves on the way to the farm. 
Did they walk very fast ?" 

" Not very," replied the Second Jester. 

" Then we must rest if we would reach the Palace 

" I think it a very sensible suggestion," said the 
. .First Jester. " What say you if we drop in on Nim- 
'bleshanks the Giant ? He lives in yonder cave." 
j " By all means, let us do it. I am extremely fond 
v of giants, if they are all like the one belonging to the 
circus that I used to care for during the winter." 
; So over they went to the cave, where they found 


Nimbleshanks sitting on a cushion with his legs 
crossed, and smiling a smile of supreme content. 

"Good -morning," said Nimbleshanks, rising and 
elongating like a telescope ; " have you any cigar-boxes 
with you ?" 

" We don't smoke," replied the First Jester. " But 
what would you with a cigar-box make a little bird 
house ?" 

" Not exactly," replied Nimbleshanks ; " I am now 
working away with my jig-saw, making curious castles 
and churches out of very thin wood, and I am a little 
short on cedar for the trimmings of this bracket." 

"Very sorry, Mr. Nimbleshanks," said Opoponax 
the Half ; " but what do you do with these pretty 
things ?" 

" I am making these for a fair," he replied. " The 
One and a Half Hospital is now in financial straits, 
and I am using all my skill in its interest." 

" What is the One and a Half Hospital, anyhow ?" 
asked the First Jester. 

"It is a hospital," replied Nimbleshanks, "where 
whole orphans and half-orphans are cared for." 

While Nimbleshanks sawed away in the deftest 
manner, Opoponax the Half said : 

" You are indeed a very nice giant, and I wish you 
would come home with me to the Palace. I have al- 
ways had an exceeding fondness for giants, and I have 
about made up my mind to stop collecting circus post- 
ers, and turn my attention to collecting giants. Would 
you have^ any objections to being No. 1 ?" 

" I should be only too happy," replied Nimbleshanks, 
"to accompany you. Will you kindly sit there and 
rest while I finish this bracket ?" 

They did as requested, and Nimbleshanks worked 


away with a will. When he had finished he called in 
a swineherd from an adjoining field, and sent him 
with all the castles and brackets to the One and a Half 
Hospital Fair. Then he said : 

" I am now ready to start and become No. 1 in your 
collection of giants." 

They started down the road at a brisk rate, but be- 
fore they had gone far Opoponax the Half remarked, 

" I am not used to these new legs yet ; they are 
hardly broken in, and that is probably what tires me 
so. I fear we shall not be able to reach the Palace 

Thereupon the Giant took Opoponax the Half on his 
back and a jester under each arm, and commenced 
running. They told him the road, and he never stopped 
until he deposited his burden on the Palace steps. All 
the people ran out in great alarm to learn what had 

" Where is the King ?" they shouted. 

" I'm half of him," replied the Farmer's Head. 

" Where's the other half, and where's the crown ?" 
they demanded. 

The First Jester then explained all, and was told 
that he ought to lose his head, too. 

" But I can't," replied the First Jester, " because I 
am the friend of Opoponax the Half." 

" Oh, stop your noise," exclaimed Opoponax the 
Half to a haughty minister in a fluted collar, " and get 
out to the barn, and see to the milking, and feed the 

u He has an agricultural head and mind," explained 
the First Jester, " and you must all learn to like his 
bucolic phrase and simile." 

Seeing a tall, slender page, with wavy flaxen hair, 



Opoponax the Half addressed him as " Shears," and 
remarked that he would be a first-rate thing to grow 
lima beans on. His off-hand remarks were very dis- 
tasteful to every one. He did not ingratiate himself 
to any extent in the estimation of another dignitary 


when he asked him why he didn't wear overalls, and 
not be going around on week-days in his Sunday 
clothes. The lounges were so soft and comfortable 
that he was afraid to recline on them for fear he might 
fall asleep and never wake. 

But at table that night he kept every one in a roar. 
He wanted nothing but johnny-cake and cookies and 
things of that sort, and he ate about twice as much as 
did the Giant. After the meal had been cleared away, 
he commenced reading jokes out of an old almanac 
and roaring with laughter. The courtiers had never 
before seen anything like it, and they would all have 
left at once had they thought they could do so with- 
out arousing the wrath of Opoponax the Half. 

" At the farm," he said, " I heard the King, before 
we changed heads, say he was going to make a great 
collection of circus posters ; and it was from him that 
I got the idea of doing the same thing. But since 
then, as I remarked in the cave of my dear Nimble- 
shanks, I have determined to collect giants. Any one 
who brings me a giant shall have a ticket for the next 
circus, if it's right in the middle of the haying season." 

Many of them pretended to be overcome by the 
generosity of this offer, and for the sake of pleasing 
Opoponax the Half promised to go forth on a giant 
hunt and bring in as many specimens as possible. 

He retired for the night at eight o'clock and was 
awake at four, at which hour he absent-mindedly arose 
and went out to look after the stock. It seemed 
strange to him that there was no stable about the 
place ; and when he went back to the palace, and 
found no one stirring, he started the morning fire and 
put on a kettle of water. 

" I tell you," he said to himself, "this king business 


astonishes me. It's the funniest kind of work I ever 
had. The only thing I really like about it is the 
chance it gives me to collect giants. I think the old 
farm would suit me better if I could only indulge my 
weakness for giants there." 

Having got the kettle on he went about the palace 
grumbling because his breakfast was not ready. He 
had an appetite that was simply agricultural in its in- 
tensity, and he sighed for buckwheat cakes and pie. 
" I don't suppose they have breakfast here much be- 
fore dinner, so I had better go down and hunt up 
some cake." 

Accordingly he went rummaging about the pantry 
shelves. A venison pasty rewarded his search, and 
this he took out under a tree, where he sat down and 
ate it in peace. The birds sang in the branches over- 
head, and this made him feel a little bit more at home. 
He sat there for an hour or so meditating on the 
queerness of his change, as if in a dream, when he 
heard some one shout : 

" The King's lost ! the King's lost !" 

" No he isn't !" shouted the King in reply, " he never 
knew his whereabouts better." 

" But what are you doing here ?" asked the courtier. 

" Just looking around a little after breakfast, that's 
all. What time do you feed the chickens here ?" 

" We don't have chickens !" said the courtier.. 

" Well, this is a funny sort of life anyhow, and I 
feel it in my bones as plain as ague that I never was 
cut out to be a king. I am afraid that I must ask 
some of you to give me a few easy lessons, or else I 
must send for the King's Head to advise me and help 
me run the thing. Two heads would be better than 
one, eh ?" 


" It would," replied the courtier, " and probably the 
King's Head would like to have you at this very mo- 
ment to tell him the proper language to use when you 
want to coax a calf within Eeach." 

" All you have to say is ' cuff, cuff, cuff !' and up 
walks the calf !" 

" But the King's Head is not aware of that," replied 
the courtier, who continued, " Do you know the Giant 
is up and out ?" 

" No ; where is he, No. 1, the Bracket-maker?" 

u In the garden hard by." 

Without offering a word of thanks for the informa- 
tion or apology for his abrupt departure, Opoponax the 
Half stood up and walked into the garden, where he 
saw No. 1, the Bracket-maker, sitting under a mulberry- 
tree in a sort of pensive reverie. The King stood be- 
hind him where he could not be seen, and as he did so 
the Giant vented his joy in the following merry song : 

"I'm very fond of children small, 

And they are fond of me ; 
I love to have them climb and fall 

In laughter at my knee ; 
And when in silken snood or poke 

I hear their prattle sweet, 
I feel just like the giant oak 
With flowers at its feet. 

" Oh, once I was a happy child, 

A perfect little lamb; 
My mother fondly on me smiled, 

And gave me bread and jam ; 
She never made me eat the crust, 

So good and kind was she, 
And I treat other children just 

The way she treated me. 


"1 love the children's gentle smile 

When in the sun they troop ; 
I love to skip the rope a while 

With them, and roll the hoop ; 
I love to hand them ginger - cake 

Beneath their parasols, 
And with my shining scissors make 

Them pretty paper dolls. 

"To me with visions rosy-ripe 

Full often they repair, 
And with a little penny pipe 

Blow bubbles in the air 
Until we quite exhaust the soap 

That generates the suds 
The children are our only hope, 

The precious little buds." 

"You are well worthy of being No. 1, Sir Bracket- 
maker, when you can sing such a song as that. I 
like you better than any other of these people about 
here, and I am going to tell them to bring in no 
more giants. I shall consider you my collection." 

The Giant, in bowing, struck his head against the 
limb of a tree. 

" You have a common every -day manner about you 
that I like, and if you are fond of children you must 
be all right." 

The Giant blushed. 

" I just wish we were back on the old farm together. 
I am tired of this smiling on everything I don't believe 
in with my honest agricultural face, and stalking 
around on these attenuated Sir Walter Raleigh legs." 

" Your language at times shows learning not to be 
looked for in a farmer. I say this to compliment, not 
to patronize you. Where did you acquire this knowl- 
edge ?" 

* ! 


" Mostly from the Fireside Cyclopcedia. An agent 
came around and offered it in fifty monthly parts at a 
very low price. The only way I could get rid of him 
was to take it. I also gained a respectable vocabulary 
from studying the circus poster, to say nothing of a 
mastery of that department of natural history that 
does with rare wild circus animals. I learned the rest 
by observing my fellow-man. I wonder what salary 
I am to be allowed for kinging this country ?" 

"I couldn't tell," replied the Giant. "Let's talk 
more about the circus." 

" After this man in the crimson cloak has departed, 
He is probably coming to ask me to go to the black- 
smith's to be measured for a crown." 

" But haven't you one already ?" asked the Giant. 

" No," replied Opoponax the Half, " I have not. I 
left the crown with the King's Head to keep it 
awake all night. But what say you if we slip be- 
hind yon syringa, and avoid this Knight of the Sus- 
pender ?" 

They stepped behind the syringa, and the Knight of 
the Suspender passed. " Have you any little brothers 
and sisters ?" asked Opoponax the Half. 

The Giant heaved a deep sigh, and replied : 

" I am an only child. Papa and mamma have been 
dead this many a year." 

"Poor fellow, you shall have a dear, constant friend 
in me. Now notice the royal dignity with which I 
am going to summon this man." 

Then he shouted, 

"What, ho, without there, Sir Knight of the Sus- 
pender, come hither !" 

The man came up very humbly. 

"Don't scrape the ground that way like a Shanghai 


rooster, but just go and have that giant order counter- 
manded. Bracket-maker No. 1 is my only giant !" 

The knight departed, and Opoponax the Half said : 

" I don't like to talk of the circus too much ; it 
wakes pleasant memories that I would forget, because 
a circus winters on my old farm every year. Do you 
think there is any way by which we could return to 

" I don't know ; but if we could I would work for 
you all my life. You could manage the farm, and I 
would open a little kindergarten." 

Just then the air was agitated by the brazen blare of 
a trumpet, and Opoponax the Half said : 

" We will not be without hope. But let's go in ; 
there goes the dinner-horn." 


OPOPONAX THE HALF was very much provoked when 
he learned that the trumpet he had heard was not the 
dinner -horn, but a signal for all hands to assemble 
for the giant hunt. Fanning himself with his straw 
hat, he said : 

" There shall be no giant hunt. Nimbleshanks, other- 
wise Bracket-maker No. 1, is to be my only giant. But 
instead, now that you are all here, we will make a circus 
ring out in the garden, and spend the afternoon in ra- 
tional fun. Procure a horse and plough!" 

A horse and plough were brought, and Opoponax 
the Half surprised them all by the agility with which 
he turned up the ring. 

" Get ap there !" he shouted as he applied the whip, 
and away the horse sped about the circle in the liveli- 
est manner. The people about the palace were greatly 
shocked at this undignified proceeding, but pretended 
they thought it rare sport. 

When the ring had been ploughed the soft earth 
was piled into the circle, and the whole surface raked 
smooth, Opoponax the Half meanwhile laughing with 
delight. The giant, looking on as happy as a school- 
boy, said : 

" If we only had the jig-saw sawdust accumulated in 
my cave, it would be splendid for the ring." 

" I never thought of the sawdust. Collect all the 


sawbucks in the neighborhood, and let the knights 
and ministers saw in the interest of the circus ring 
and a good appetite." 

The retinue of Opoponax the Half flew to obey the 
royal command, and half an hour later the garden was 
full of sawbucks and saws, and every one was sawing 
away for dear life. 

" I would suggest," said Opoponax the Half to the 
Custodian of the Latchkeys, who was bobbing up and 
down like a buoy on rough water, "that you remove 
your velvet cloak and Valenciennes collar while you 
saw. I don't feel that I can afford to allow you to wear 
such extravagant raiment. When I was a chore-boy I 
was taught to be economical, and I have never been 
able to get over it." 

" It is very hard work," replied the Custodian of the 
Latchkeys, blowing for breath while he hung his purple 
cloak on a Japan quince. 

" It is hard work that makes us happy," replied 
Opoponax the Half. " All the happiness we have is 
the result of hard work. I have known country people 
to pick blackberries for weeks, when there was scarce- 
ly a blackberry to be found, in order to have sufficient 
money to purchase a ticket for the forthcoming circus. 
They were happy in their labor, because it was gilded 
by a pleasant anticipation that made it light. And the 
circus was the reward. While you are sawing this 
wood your heart should be in our circus ring. How 
would you like to saw wood all your life for fifty cents 
per day ?" 

" Frankly, death would be sweeter," replied the Cus- 
todian of the Latchkeys. 

" If yon were to do it for, say, a year, you would learn 
to appreciate the luxury of your present position. A 

OPOPONAX }4 327 

position to be enjoyed should be appreciated at its true 
value, and, as I notice every one about Axrainster Pal- 
ace appears to be grumbling and discontented, I am 
going to do them all a kindness in teaching them 
through experience that they are really very well off. 
Now don't stand there looking at me to escape work ; 
pitch right in and get your second wind." 

The Custodian of the Latchkeys once more set to 
work, and while he puffed and blew as he gyrated upon 
an oak knot, Opoponax the Half told them all what he 
had just said to him of the Latchkeys, and continued : 

" I am going to have a circus here every other day, 
and am going to introduce an industrial feature. Every 
dignitary has got to saw and split wood, and go through 
calisthenic exercises with pails of coal and water in- 
stead of dumb-bells. I am going to have you groom 
horses in the ring, and milk cows that won't stand still. 
I am going to have you do every kind of disagreeable 
work I can think of for quite a while I won't say 
how long and allow you only the commonest food, 
and beds hard enough to give you rheumatism." 

The ministers were completely undone when they 
heard this, and it is quite likely they would all have 
resigned their positions had they dared. 

When they had wheeled all the sawdust into the 
ring, and everything was ready, he ordered them to 
race around it, each one carrying a heavy jagged stone. 
Some dropped, and others fell over them. Then he 
arranged two ladders in triangular fashion, and com- 
pelled them, each with an armful of bed-slats, to run 
up one side and down the other in Indian file. It 
was very amusing to see the slats slip this way and 

"That is enough for to-day," said Opoponax the Half. 


"Now you are to have a dinner of cold corned beef 
and dry bread so hard that you will do your teeth a 
kindness by resorting to nut -crackers. And then to 
bed on a couch of rippling lumps, and you will be on 
the highroad to happiness." 

In a few hours th(y were all in bed, and then Opo- 
ponax the Half said to the Giant : 

" When I left the farm I did not forget to bring 
along a goodly supply of circus posters, and with these 
I am going to decorate the walls of my room, that they 
may be the first thing to greet my gaze when I wake 
in the morning. As you have a long reach you can 
make a step-ladder superfluous." 

Nimbleshanks was only too glad to be of service, 
and they immediately repaired to the luxurious sleep- 
ing apartment. 

" We must arange them artistically," said the King. 
" We must put the wild quadrupeds together on this 
wall, the fishes on this side, the horses over there, and 
human beings here, taking great pains to keep the in- 
habitants 'of each country together." 

" You have now filled the four walls. How about the 
birds ?" 

"They can go on the ceiling as if flying," replied 
the King. 

" These rooms are very small," said the Giant, turn- 
ing the subject when a thought of his own comfort 
occurred to him, " and I suppose, as I have been in 
the habit of living in a cave, you intend to relegate 
me to the cellar." 

" Not at all, not at all !" replied Opoponax the Half, 
laughing louder than he had before laughed since be- 
coming a king. " If it comes to the worst, we can ac- 
commodate your length by giving you the hall up- 


stairs. That would be a sort of tall bedroom, wouldn't 

The Giant, never having lived in the city, did not 
enjoy this joke to any extent, but laughed out of 
compliment, and to this day Opoponax the Half 
doubtless thinks his merry jest was taken at its face 

" We had better put this papering work off till to- 
morrow," said Opoponax the Half. 

" I am not in the least fatigued, if you are not," 
replied the Giant. 

" But I am," said Opoponax the Half. 

" Then I am, too," replied the Giant. 

" But it is not because of my fatigue that I post- 
pone the work," said Opoponax the Half. " I want to 
do it in the daylight for the sake of harmony and 
effect in color. I am not an artist in any sense, but 
in the matter of color I have a keen appreciation of 
circus values." 

In the morning Opoponax the Half and the Giant 
were down bright and early, but the rest slept until 
eleven. When they appeared they said they had never 
rested so comfortably before, as they slumbered from 
the time they touched the pillows. 

" The rosy blessing of sleep," said Opoponax the 
Half, " was all owing to the work you did yesterday. 
You slept better on lumpy beds than formerly on 
couches of softest down. It should satisfy you that 
my theory is sound, and that by forcing you to follow 
it I may yet make you happy. It is no pleasure, I can 
assure you, to see you suffer ; but I know that through 
suffering more is learned than through opulent idleness. 
You see yon stone-wall ?" 

" Yes," they all replied. 


" Pitch right in, and carry it over here, and reset it 
in an outer side circle about the ring." 

They went at their work reluctantly, because many 
of them were so stiff and sore that they were walking 
around bent half-way over, being unable to get out of 
the positions in which they slept. While they were 
plodding away, Opoponax the Half said : 

" How would you like to be at your ordinary duties 
now ?" 

When they heard these balmy words they dropped 
the stones they were carrying, ran up to Opoponax the 
Half, and replied, in chorus : 

"What a boon it would be, what a boon it would be, 
what a boon " 

" It will be a thousand-fold greater boon," broke in 
Opoponax the Half, "after 1 have worked you this 
way about a month or so longer. Now go at the stone 
wall again, and hurry up, that you may get at the split- 
ting of the winter's firewood before the curfew." 

"What say you, Sir Bracket-maker No. 1, if we hie 
us to the Palace, and proceed with our work of circus- 
postering my room ?" 

The Giant thought it would be a splendid idea, as 
his heart was in it. So Opoponax the Half cautioned 
his retinue not to praise in their work a minute be- 
fore the dinner-hour, and then went to the royal kitch- 
en and made a pailful of paste of flour and water, 
after which he proceeded to his sleeping apartment 
with the Giant. The latter was overcome with joy 
when he saw the beautiful posters. He stood in a 
sort of helpless reverie, and went into raptures over 
the vivid colors. 

" Should I ever have to start a kindergarten to ren- 
der you assistance, I intend to paper it just in this 


way, that the children may be amused and instructed 
at the same time. They could thus be taught color 
values, natural history, and, by alluding to the coun- 
tries from which the animals come, a geographical 
feature might be worked in. Besides, they would be 
splendid subjects for the drawing-class." 

" Beautiful, beautiful !" exclaimed Opoponax the 
Half, clapping his hands and laughing. " I am glad 
that there is at least one in this cold world that is in 
sympathy with me in my mad glad circus love. But 
how shall we arrange them ?" 

The Giant looked the posters over carefully, and 
having concluded the order in which they should be 
arranged, sang as in a dream, while he pointed with 
his forefinger : 

" The Bengal tiger here, 

The ostrich over there, 
And by the cats in soldier hats 

The elk with shaggy hair. 
We'll put the spouting whale, 

That gives the whaler combat, 
Beside the ape without a tail, 

Just underneath the wombat. 

The pard with frenzied eye 

And angry tail erect, 
Above yon chair, and near the bear, 

Will make a fine effect. 
We'll place this hairless sheep 

That eats the ruta-baga, 
Below the sloth so sound asleep 

To flank the lively quagga. 

" Above, the albatross 

The wild-eyed Hottentot 
Must watch the gnu and kangaroo 
And lazy hippopot. 


The scarlet parrot must 

Be near the beryl monkey, 
And here the clown that in the dust 

Commingles with the donkey." 

"I like the arrangement very much," said Opopo- 
nax the Half, " and I most cheerfully adopt it." 

They then set to work, and in an hour's time had 
the room most gorgeously decorated. And they were 
both so beside themselves with joy that they fairly 

" I am so happy that I almost forget I am a king !" 
exclaimed Opoponax the Half. " But let's to the gar- 
den and see how the lordly vassals are progressing." 

He was so pleased on observing the amount of labor 
they had performed that he allowed them half an hour 
to play after dinner, and ordered an itinerant candy 
woman to regale each and every one with ten cents' 
worth of marshmallow drops at the expense of the 

And so the days passed softly and merrily on until 
a month had expired, and all the ministers, secretaries, 
and custodians of this thing or that were worked into 
skeletons, and were altogether too small for their cloth- 
ing. Then Opoponax the Half told them that if they 
thought they had been sufficiently educated by toil to 
appreciate prosperity and ease they might resume their 
exalted positions of dignity and trust. To say they 
were jubilant would not he doing their feelings justice. 
They scampered about like so many children on the 
last day of school. And their duties, they said, were 
simply fun. They were willing to do night-work with- 
out extra pay or supper-money. And what is more, 
they were never known to grumble again, but were 
always cheerful, and in the best of spirits. 


Several weeks later, when they were all out in the 
garden playing circus, some one shouted, 

u Here comes an old farmer with a crowned king's 
head, and accompanied by an ancient dame." 

" This is Timo half of Timothy Hay," said Mrs. 
Hay, who was delighted unto tears at once more see- 
ing the face of her son. " I am very tired, and would 
like a cup of tea." 

" Bring the tea right out here," said Opoponax the 
Half, who was so glad to see his mother that he didn't 
know what to do " bring the tea right out here, and 
bring plenty of it !" 

While Mrs. Hay was rapturously sipping the tea, 
Opoponax the Half sat beside Timo, and asked : 

" How are things at the farm ? How is old Brindle, 
and Musta, the Arabian steed presented me by the cir- 

" Everything is all wrong," replied Timo. " I broke 
the tongs pulling up turnips with them, and, to make 
a long story short, the place is a wreck. The sheriff 
is expected in two weeks, and I have come with your 
mother for pecuniary assistance. How do you like 
being a king?" 

" Not at all," said Opoponax the Half. " I am as 
much undone as you are. In fact, I have to play cir- 
cus to forget my sorrow." 

While they consoled each other with many a sad 
" alas," the Custodian of the Latchkeys proposed that 
Opoponax the Half and Timo roll around the ring a 
few times to show them how they came to change 
heads. Every one shouted for them to begin, and 
neither was in a mood to refuse so slight a request. 
So they got the proper grip, and went around like a 
wheel, increasing their speed until, as on a former 


occasion, no one could tell just where Opoponax the 
Half began and Timo terminated. 

When they arose they had again changed heads, 
and before the principals or the onlookers could ex- 
press their surprise, the Giant sang, 

" What funny things are these 
That on our visions burst? 
He's Timothy H;iy, and he's 
Opoponax the First." 

And so it was. 

" All is well," said Timothy Hay, " for both of us 
are happier. I am the light-hearted agriculturist of 
yore, and he is again the merry monarch." 

There was great rejoicing on all sides, and after the 
excitement subsided, Opoponax the First said : 

" May I come to visit you next winter, when the 
circus arrives ?" 

" Indeed, you may," replied Timothy Hay ; " but if 
you have wrecked the farm, you should redeem it for 
me, that we may enjoy the circus together." 

" It shall be done instanter," said the King. 

He thereupon gave Timothy Hay a purse contain- 
ing more gold than he had come to ask for himself. 

" I must away, to be home in time for the milking," 
said Timothy^ " We have both learned one grand 
lesson, and that is that we can only shine in the sphere 
of life intended for us, be it great or humble ; but I 
miss the end from one of my fingers !" 

" I lost that in the hay-cutter," said Opoponax the 
First, " and wish to humbly apologize for my careless- 

" Don't mention it," replied Timothy. " Accidents 
cannot be avoided, but your anatomy is complete. 
Come, Sir Bracket-maker, No. 1, we must away." 


They bade Opoponax the First and his retinue an 
affectionate farewell, and started on their journey. 

When at the gate, Opoponax shouted, 

" Don't forget to let me know when the circus ar- 
rives for the winter !" 

Timothy Hay promised, at the top of his voice, to 
lot him know, and then the Giant took Mrs. Hay on 
one arm, and Timothy on the other, to gain time, and 
started for the farm on a trot. As he jogged along 
, he burst into song, probably to mark time, and this is 
what he sang : 

" We'll lead a happy life, 

We'll ever be together, 
Although it blow, or madly snow, 

Or sunny be the weather. 
Beneath one humble roof 

We'll know a cheery shelter, 
And from our door drive care before 

Our boot-toe helter-skelter. 

"Our lives will be as light 

As morning's dewy flowers, 
And Happiness will smiling bless 

The never-lagging hours. 
At breakfast, when the sun's 

The far east's rosy tinger, 
We'll fondly sigh o'er apple-pie, 

And cake composed of ginger. 

" We'll sing our daily song : 

'Begone, dark clouds, to Yeddo!' 
And watch the cows demurely browse 

Within the shining meadow. 
Light-hearted will we be 

As mated wren or marten, 
And if for gold our days grow cold 

I'll start a kindergarten." 



It only remains to be said, in conclusion, that, al- 
though Opoponax the Fjrst reigned long and well, and 
was an ideally happy king, he never learned to laugh. 


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